not breathing,

What happened to the trees my father planted? The red tops in the back yard Could they be shoring up the delta somewhere? In a landfill, or a stream? Things can never be the same as they once were The gates go up, the trees come down That timeless feeling of not understanding Furniture's been moved around Or something hidden in past lives of children Time has made ghosts of us all My little sister's filthy handprint still there Hidden on the closet wall Old pieces of my life are falling away Another piece of me gone