Where is the tree that saved me from the sun? Where is the tree that kept me dry in the rain? Finally, I found you — fallen, and beside you, the cat — my love, maybe yours too. Now the land is quiet, but the wind still calls your name. Should I still love you? Or just cut what never grows again? I don’t know — maybe the roots still breathe, or maybe it’s just me standing too close to what’s already gone.