Underneath the Maple

(.requested poem.)

Take a look around.
Do you see me
standing here beneath the maple
where we used to chase
the invisible ones? I remember
a thousand yesterdays
ago, when you climbed
into the shadows of this tree and
then,
with daring eyes, looked down
on all of us while we held
our breath.
And I remember
wanting to be brave
like you.
We weren't
of significant age,
but at least we lived like tomorrow wasn't
promised to us.
So now I stand here while the rain threatens
to break from sunless clouds, and
while you run catching the flying sphere
with the others like you.
And I'm tracing
my fingertips over the four
letters
you made here so long ago, impressed on
time and bark,
fading
but not absent- made from miniature knives.
You didn't know what you meant.
Stand with me
underneath the maple and remember,
while leaves
fall
sweetly to the ground,
for the hundredth time, because
they are both changing and unchanging-
something much like
us.