And she only sleeps when it's raining.

Streching upwards, every branch straining to the sun.
Curled in this foliage, I can't help but think of you.
The brushed red of the bark, the green of the leaves,
The songbirds that seem to overwhelm the air.
The wind that rushes in is pleasant,
But even it makes me no lighter than your smile.
And despite the steady limbs that hold me,
It can never begin to compare to your arms.
I run my fingertips across the maple's texture.
It alternates under my touch, rough to smooth.
It would seem that this trait too, you share.
And as if a child proclaiming their name,
You have carved yourself into my heart -
Not even Time himself could steal you away.