On the day we decided
That that house was the one
I remember standing outside for a few minutes, looking at it's strange front
On a block full of normal looking houses
It stood stoutly, starkly
Like the mexican restaurant of the block.
A huge Magnolia tree shaded it's front.
I had never seen one before--
The gigantic velvet blossoms softened my eyes.
When I begged you to say yes to the house I grinned and repeated:
"That's our tree! I know it!"
Later on, we groaned about the carpet of brittle brown leaves that it dropped,
But at night, the blossoms would shine like miniature moons
Reflecting the porch light when we came home.
To our home, our life.
And so on the last day that we owned it together--
On the last day that we had something that bound us together
With the hairy, prickly twine of complications and bills and legal documents,
Magnolia leaves and branches and blossoms...
I took the tree with me.