It wouldn’t take much, maybe
just belief in a love greater
than the separation of two lanes of worn asphalt,
to reach out your moss covered arms,
roots stretching triumphant down the embankment,
and take back the forest primeval.
Wow! A deep comment I know. But I haven't read my Poets here; read plenty of poems, but haven't come across too many poets. So, is death the twin lanes of a highway? And the remnants of a trapped life, the median, that finds courage/power/hope and grows back across to the forest?
If not, that's kool, because that's what I took from it. I'm impressed. Be blessed.