#432-Tree chatter

Late summer.

Everything’s green.

Warm thunderstorms pour down.

Yet parts of me are yellowing,

Drying out.

Even now.

Why?

It’s confusing.

I want to understand, and

Accept,

Without anxiety,

Or fright.

Parts of me feel out of place.

Screaming nothingness into the air.

Doubts haphazardly gifted,

By people long ago,

I no longer recognize.

Time doesn’t heal.

It creates distance.

Making painful memories,

Change color,

And flavor.

How else could one survive,

The avalanche of emotions,

Buried inside?