Sunday, April 30, 2017

Woodland Wasteland

This morning a young man caught in reverie
kicked my brittle and broken bark
and picked my leaves frantically
to attempt to find that heart-shaped

Sparks fly presently at noon
when a young girl receives a heart-shaped
leaf that makes her swoon
and she glances from a young man to me
where she tests my strength
and kisses with a lean against my length

Aches at two when I've lost more bark
and the couple has joined me with another
by a hammock rope and a meditation in the park
where I grow deeply smothered

By the ceaseless days and times
and I grow taller and wider with the
experiences of songs and rhymes
that repeat in thin rings of regret

Fullness is what I lack when I reminisce
and recognize that this story about the young man
and the young girl has been told before

When I was a skinny sapling of a stock
and the same boy stole my scrawny branch
to chase a young girl who read above my roots
stories of fantasy and wedlock

To make life better the girl sought the young man
but from what my rings taught me of time old
a lonely human girl can stand
to wait for a worthy stronghold
that looks more like woodland and less like

Wasteland is what I see at midnight
when time and time again
the chips from my bark fall
and the rings are riddled with human sin
and a bright pocked pall
marks the scabs that never scar
from the many mistakes
of young men and girls in my sight.

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