Sunday 27 March 2011

Esmerelda the Great

Glossy leaves conceal the rusting bark
of a mind that’s aged through the summers passed,
with branches withering into the dark,
smothered by the foliage that has massed.

It longs to rid the confines of beauty
to stand tall, proud and wise, without burden
yet it must fulfil its long kept duty
and remain rooted to chains of Worden.

It prays to let its murky roots be shown
so it can offer no more false pretence,
cut down the forest and leave it alone
so that its loadful thoughts are not so dense.

This, the great tree they call Esmeralda
was happy until man’s passion felled her.

No comments:

Post a Comment