One,
you are the umbrella tree
that heats my heart,
a valley full of fire;
that warms my face,
a thousand hills, pressed in ancient smiles,
only because I met you.

Two,
you are the umbrella tree
that whispers to my soul, a field of ripe compassion;
that blows a lifetime of tender beauty,
a summer place on the hillsides of my mind,
only because I met you.

Three,
you are the umbrella tree
that lingers under my skin,
a river pacing, filling every cell of me;
that touches the infinite thing of me,
a wind, old, that comes from the beginnings of beginnings,
only because I me you.

Four,
you are the umbrella tree
that lives in my hidden vulnerable places,
a sea of my untolds, an ocean of my mistakes, a river of my pities;
that reveals the wishful innocence of my days long since past,
a playful game of "hide-n-seek," a silly song of "loop-to-loop," a fast jolly ride, climbing, dropping...,
only because I met you.

Five,
you are the umbrella tree
that breathes contentment into,
a body that sometimes has no desire for air or truth;
that rolls away the gray grey stone crafted by fear and uncertainty,
a pillar where sea grass choked its life and scorched its treasured color,
only because I met you.

Six,
you are the umbrella tree
that measures the immeasurable in me,
a depth of my lonliness, a span of my pride, a thickness of my ambition;
that fills my dried up water hole with unrequited love and peace,
a chasm that no longer exists, painfully so,
only because I met you.

Seven,
you are the umbrella tree
that pierces my useless conversations forcing me to stillness,
a quiet room in my thoughts of illumination and elevation;
that causes me to write my own words----not Atwood's, not Tennyson's,
a self-directed thought, no matter the edge or the ledge,
only because I met you.

Eight,
you are the umbrella tree
that brings poetry into my soul from wrinkles of life more than training,
a flood of bare unrestricted words because you are the words;
that empties onto a pad waiting to be filled,
a coffee table, a hand, a night lamp, a pair of glasses, reading, writing,
only because I met you.

Nine,
you are the umbrella tree
that consumes me endlessly, always,
a light, each night, dims sad blue;
that makes me play my guitar for you,
a song, our song, sings your spirit to sleep with mine,
only because I met you.

Ten,
you are the umbrella tree
that covers my gray skies,
a parasol on my rainy days;
that paints my whole world with rainbows of sunshine,
a Greenwich buzzing heart, each second, an equator of perfect time,
perfectly kept, I awake,
only because I met you.

____originally published in Book 1: Mary Garibaldi Powers Finishes the Dress but not Without a Kick-n-Fit of the thrilling tetralogy, Laying Within the Mark...This is the character, Everette Fitzgerald's, last letter to his only love, Mary Garibaldi Powers. Here he expounds, finally, on how many ways he loves her.

_____from Songs of a Journey's End, a poet's companion book to the thrilling tetralogy, Laying Within the Mark

Thanks everyone for taking the time to read my words. Your thoughtful reviews are passionately important to me. You help ignite my passion to do what I love most, outside of helping specially challenged children and adults, to write with boundless spiritual energy and synergy, touching places in others...making a difference.