So you’ve made your choice.
Left me with all the dreams once blossoming on the branches.
The tree looks so tiny now in the sea of forests.
Twenty four years of using the word “we."
Great was the trek from the swampy basefield to the drizzling apexcity.
For the last time I drink in all your lies, promising as a nonexistent Christmas white.
With miles of tassels photosynthesizing under kisses from the sun and the wind.
From jingle bells to thumping gavel, strangely resounding when I reminisce.
About the process of becoming, the duality, you and me.
Ever growing are the dandelions rising in people’s conciousness.
Till the wind carries the seeds, and the flapping pages, to a new beginning.
River on Baltic Sea 
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