My Dearest Boy

My dearest boy,

When I asked you, “Will You Wait For Me Under That Pine Tree?”
I wasn’t sure that I was going to find you still there. Forever enchanted by the beauty of our majestic green creatures, and forever daydreaming of a colorful journey and harmonious existence.
I have been away for long, and I feared that a dark iron cloud would disrupt your peaceful sky and that a malicious Notus wind would shut the harmonious poems of the timid breezes of your forests.
I am overjoyed that your pine trees and the solitary homes you adored where you played tirelessly, dreaming of becoming a painter one day; the same ones I translated into canvases of light, are serene and joyful.

Trust me, my boy; despite our trees having seen many dark scenes; they keep on gifting us light, and always guiding us to the shores of happiness.
I leave them under your watchful eye and your loving protection.
I was hoping you might write to me regularly, my boy, and describe the birds who sing the rhymes they whispered, and recount tales of the inhabitants of those beautiful homes and the warmth they emanate to history.

I am taking them with me to my third shore into the realm of color, to a new city where great friends await me and where you can sense the worth of bounds and families.

I hope, my boy, that our kind trees find new homes, and our homes infuse warmth into human hearts, whilst our words echo to the deepest cliffs and gift light to those willing to see.
I salute you and kiss that tree you crouch under, reading my words and dreaming of a peaceful path to humanity.

Yours always,

Gilbert Halaby