woven as one

it's hard to write
about a tree, or a stone,
a hill,
or cloud,
the rain, or snow
without the words
somehow forming into
a poem about you,
or me,
or her, or
them,
everyone long gone.
all is tied together,
woven into one.
nothing
ever is completely
undone.
we are tethered to
the past,
to the souls that have
crossed our
paths, those we have
laughed or cried with,
those we called
friends, or who
have slept in our beds,
and made love to,
those we have
kissed or cursed
and said farewell to.
the dead included.
no one is ever too far
away, too gone.