Poem: This Tree

Yes! The tree:
we were there, sat
between roots that crawled
underground for hundreds of years.

No, you arrived later,
when we were sat,
up amongst the branches.

When we were sat at root,
the sun simmered away a storm,
and we laughed as steam
grabbed at the clouds.

All of your wine,
most of mine,
tasted and smelt warm.

Neither one of us, you remember,
Neither looked up or down.

We just laughed
and drank our warm wine.

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