driving through the narrow road, two yellow lines
in the middle, pulling me straight to the center.
I look to my right, I reach my beautiful place:
white fence, wide green meadow, horse crouched under the sole tree,
a tree standing tall,
capturing the eyes of the riders. A tree glorifying its
venue and shedding light into the hearts
of the pedestrians. A tree standing
strong and worn, reflecting infancy as the lake mirrors its nub
where is the tree, green wide meadow?
I, ask. Clenched to my camera.
horse approaches close to the fence, puling for help
wreckage confined my venue, as I stand tall wretched
to find my place the same.
a tree gone, meadow packed with aged woods
green upended by engines and blown up
my peaceful place in vain.
what have they done?
I crouched behind the fence, browsing, swiping the screen
through the last resemblance of my heart, wounded by what
my eyes suffered to believe.
a place never gone from my heart, luminous roots standing tall beneath
the ground of the new homes.