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.
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