They are the only ones who help me. I am not the only one who helps them. Four fat trees with fat necks and long arms like mine. Four who don’t seem to belong here but are staying here. Four beautiful examples given by the city. From my rooftop, we can see them, but the city just hustles and bustles and doesn’t appreciate the smaller things.
Their weakness isn’t secret. They send sensational limbs up into the sky. They grow wide and they grow slim and they hug the Earth between their hairless toes and kiss the sky with gentle lips and never give up their happiness. This is how they continue.
Let one rethink their reason for existing, they’d all darken like the sky in a storm, each with their arms separate but around the other. Breath, breath, breath they say when I inhale. They give life.
When I am too depressed and too weak to continue continuing, when I am a petite thing against so many rocks, then it is I that look at trees. When there is only buildings left to look at on this street. Four who overcame despite unlikely odds. Four who grow and do not forget to grow. Four whose only reason is to live and live.