Constantly Trying to Understand

A thought dangling on a yarn, hanging on a tree named after you.
A soft airflow, a yawn swaying the string and the branches,
creating a scene, like a pendulum, of an imminent clue.

Over and over, bobbing like a ping pong ball, trying to grasp it, but too tall.
Exhausted, under your shade, defeated by your height, lacking power.
And before I knew it, summer's over, passing, turning into fall.