Benevolence

Advancing the construct of love With embryonic sophistication Will only bemuse the dove And send her back with agitation…. Through its genial labyrinth, into the trap Of every distant memory; For the olive branch will surely snap When clinging to its reverie. The bark will fend off the wrath of December, However, the fruit is not solely for you— Lest we digress and disremember; The leaves are there to collect the dew To nourish itself for all to pursue.