Treed Creed

I was five, he was sticks…he was there in a distant place and I rested in my room…I grew he grew…we had all the seasons in common…I loved the winters…he loved the springs… when I first saw him…there was nothing very beautiful in him that can be remembered and talked about…still he had the charm…I wanted to hug him tight…I did once…the unspoken words of his…hissed with the winds blowing through…the raindrops told no stories of our secret affair…all was kept quiet…the messages were sent to each other giving the performance of an affair which had blank sounds…blank expressions…I received his love letters every morn…I read them with dew in my eyes…a small bird like thing which lives a day…would come and smile at me…shying she seemed to mock us…as if saying… “some time”…he did not seem to mind that…he continued with his expressing of love…he would send the letters even when I would be sleeping in my room…they would come floating in my room…I saw him wither and bloom…still he did not stop sending me the letters…I bloomed too…time went by…our love increased with every single flower gifted…then!!!...one day…just as one that day has to come for every one…all ended…the woodcutter came and chopped him.