To Sit Beneath the Trees

I am one to sit in my car in the middle of the night and stare at the moon through the trees. Wonder what might have been and what might be.

 I thank God for the trees, for the leaves, for the air; for this gift of mortality. Melancholy but content. Lights of the stereo, strains of strings, the romp of piano.

Thank God for Classical Music.
 I am alone but I thank God for the peace and solitude. Summer nights are indeed perfect, the moon almost bright enough by which to write.

She is marvelous in my memory. I have held onto her for so long... Perhaps out of pain, perhaps out of pride, undoubtedly out of love.

Why?

May I learn to forget, may I learn to forgive. May I unstop the corks of my growth, may I take root and grow strong.

I am one to sit beneath the trees and stare at the moon...