140322
14/03/22
A little boy sat all alone
Beneath a dying throttler tree
Through which’s branches, bare and cold
The wind cavorted mournfully.
Upon his lap was lain a bract
The final of a lost array
With which he tied a dismal knot,
Kissed once, then twice, then tossed away
Cruelly on shone bright the moon,
As the boy in silence wept
And with the swift-departing tree
He slowly
slowly
slowly
Slept.
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