Within a cold August I sought my wilting branch. It were of where I would often flee
but were upon it a stranger that held no recognition, none at all to me
We began to speak in our distance, perhaps it were short in the eyes of some
Though upon his eventual returns once more, I found our space to fill in as they'd come.
The branches became full as I waited for him again, perhaps something new in their leaves
Color coming back,the filling of my heart come the night fall eves
he came to me once, sat closer than I would have ever seen before
And away with his mask he left to me, a kiss and earnesty toward an open door
I was taken away that night for I no longer resembled what I once were
For a smile crept upon my face, and this I knew certain, love to be sure
But as I waited the evening next he did not come as the moon set in the sky
So I waited for him another night, come another, alone the branches and I
Listened to each sound, hoping to hear the crack upon my branch's way
Though as the month's came the only sound were my broken heart's stay
I sit here staring upon his mask, wondering upon the dreary september night
If I would ever take off my own mask now, would anything ever be right?