The Senior Friend
fragment · june 2016 (est.)
The earthy scent of mud,
with the brown and red in harmony,
embellished her old apple orchard, which was part of her ancestry.
It was home to all the rose bushes she had planted,
and buried the sole-prints of her grandad's morning strolls.
It was the feed for animals that people had stranded,
and stamped the traces of car tires avoiding tolls.
More importantly,
it inhabited her sturdy senior friend, a weather-worn apple tree,
who kept her secrets from the sleepless nights she'd spend,
every time she and her mother would disagree.
It stood tall expecting her return, regardless of the season.
She'd be long gone — drowned in the worldly fuss —
but it awaited patiently, though it had no reason.
That senior friend always kept his unsaid promise.
Though
it provided shelter to others, if they'd make a visit,
casting dancing shadows on anyone who'd cross its pit.
Regardless of what came its way, it always waited for her next revisit,
though there was no surety if she was going to make it.
It taught her unconditional loyalty in this world of unsolicited cruelty.
Hunting for the same steadiness,
she'd always come back running to her senior friend,
disappointed by the way the world depicted faithfulness,
where people replaced friends like a changing fashion trend.
with the brown and red in harmony,
embellished her old apple orchard, which was part of her ancestry.
It was home to all the rose bushes she had planted,
and buried the sole-prints of her grandad's morning strolls.
It was the feed for animals that people had stranded,
and stamped the traces of car tires avoiding tolls.
More importantly,
it inhabited her sturdy senior friend, a weather-worn apple tree,
who kept her secrets from the sleepless nights she'd spend,
every time she and her mother would disagree.
It stood tall expecting her return, regardless of the season.
She'd be long gone — drowned in the worldly fuss —
but it awaited patiently, though it had no reason.
That senior friend always kept his unsaid promise.
Though
it provided shelter to others, if they'd make a visit,
casting dancing shadows on anyone who'd cross its pit.
Regardless of what came its way, it always waited for her next revisit,
though there was no surety if she was going to make it.
It taught her unconditional loyalty in this world of unsolicited cruelty.
Hunting for the same steadiness,
she'd always come back running to her senior friend,
disappointed by the way the world depicted faithfulness,
where people replaced friends like a changing fashion trend.
☕
marginalia
“Loyalty does not demand reason. It simply waits, roots deep, through season after season.”
For the ones who stay: a tree, a friend, a memory.
little Eman was navigating friendship breakups in middle school when this found its way onto the page. This piece is for her, for the heart that kept believing even when it ached.
— Eman, peer-reviewed
⸻ visual ephemera · archive plates ⸻
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