Neath the boughs and eaves;
a soul all withered,
For a love once unfurled
Of promises made;
and hope assumed
and vows murled….
Scattered and battered in the undergrowth
lies a heart that has found no rhythm
let alone finding its roots
and a mind crammed with its own verbiose
Emotions that have ran helter- skelter!
Cowering from the honeyed light,
afraid to take in the sweet air of fertility
and the visions of serendipity….
Rays that dared to filter
through psychedelic green;
Is this the trick of love’s fiend?
In the forest of its dreams
Reality was tearing it, at the seams.
Gnarled, knobble thoughts
of crosses and noughts
Bristling the leaves of its nondescript existence
like medieval minstrels
melodies plucking and heart strings tugging.
Is the sunlight an illusion of yore
to set its heart abuzz
and bring those dormant feelings to the fore
to still its mind of the fuss;
The soul lingers
In the antithesis
Shall it allow itself to bask in the metamorphosis?
Find itself once again