Curve

Photo by Yoksel 🌿 Zok on Unsplash

I grow toward
your trunk
the way light does
finding the edge,
leaning in.

Your shadow,
a cool palm
on my face.

Rain comes.
I open.
I drink.
I turn it into reach.

You take water
underground,
measured,
hidden.

You hold more.
Leaves and rain I cannot see,
fall from above
as indifference.

I bloom
without permission.
I grow
color at your feet.
And you stand in it.

My leaves
graze the air
where you begin,
and you do not pull away.

Your branches arch
over me, safely
out of reach.

I have climbed you
in my sleep
to be held like a leaf.
You do not move.

You give me space
under twisted earth
others don’t see.

Rooted too deeply
to bend towards me.
So I curve to you.

©Just Kayla, 2026

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