suprasternal notch

Amidst a forested landscape
worn thin by trodding feet
and vacant prayer,
I found him
gingerly sleeping at the base of an oak.
He presumed he would slumber this way forever,
expected his palm curled around
an emerging root
would seize in that manner.
The wooden vein would fuse
and twist with his
sturdy hand.
Willingly, he planned to feed his bones
and spirit
to keep this monument ever green.
Yet, I found him
and my mere heartbeat
caused hazel eyes to blink,
hand to leave root.
He begged for a kiss, just one touch on red lips
and I acquiesced.
In that soul kiss,
he pulled and he grasped
at hair tendrils and neck
as though I was his rescue,
savior from a forever of
tree form.

"You must sleep."
I whispered.
"The sun is rising
and my journey has just begun."

His root hand,
traced the base of my throat
and he fell back,
back to his tree
and returned to his dreams.