A rising on Valentines Resur e rection
A rising on Valentines
Resur – e – rection
Four AM Valentines morn, I awoke,
stiff as a board – stands a mighty oak,
reaching up to heavenly skies – empty –
whishing upon a star that would not be
a heavenly body for me – that pink cloud,
sweet, delicious – ecstasy wrapped in a shroud.
A surprise !, standing against the ravages of time,
- for a long, long time – this gift with no place to go
for deep down – in my heart – I have come to know,
that upon this tree, you have no desire to climb
nor upon this mighty oak come and take a rest
and maybe find, that doing so, could be the best
wood, the wood that greeted me, will never greet you,
will never be a pillar you wish to climb upon.
To pulp – my wood, this mighty oak – becomes, gone.
What does an old man find ?, - when realizing so few
moments arise that he might sing a glorious song
to the goddesses “ Isis ”, “ Ishtar ” – not a clue.
B. J. “A ” 2
February 15th 2007
Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2015
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