Myrtle Tree

Author: Moran

I wonder if my mother is a myrtle tree. The way she wraps her layers of leaves around my softened form and holds my dreams gently, as if to say: however you land, here, today, is okay in my eyes. You will always be welcome to come and rest your weary head in these bundle of branches that curl around your thrumming heart just so. And while you rest, I will play a deep lullaby of the stars for you, so when you wake it is with a peaceful knowing of home pulsing in your veins. I think it is the way she whispers these things to me in such simple gladness that makes me wonder, whether my mother is, in fact, a myrtle tree.