there is space on the sycamore tree

growing shyly around the bend

for cars to park next to and signal their passing

by carving on the soft brown bark

numbers and symbols and letters and names

leaving their mark as the earth keeps spinning

there is space on the bridge

curving proudly above the river

for people to walk by and signal their passing

by carving on the light worn wood

numbers and symbols and letters and names

leaving their mark as the world keeps moving

there is space everywhere

if you look hard enough

to leave a mark

a touch

a trace

there is space for you and space for me

a space for us all to be