I am shadowed in the shade of the tree,
in the soft leisure of flowering green,
observing how the sky descends slowly -
a brooding poet seeking the serene.
The fruit of all seasons hangs by a thread,
clinging to life like gnarled hands on a rail.
The knife-edged years, unrelenting, have fled,
renting the dreams that impassioned my veil.
I absorb the breath of blossoms and fruit
as fireflies flit across autumn scatters.
I planted this tree and love gave it root;
and in this world, love is all that matters.
The season of loneliness has arrived,
and there is a sense of punctuation.
I suffered the storms and somehow survived
the longest whisper of desolation.
The window's light is like a candle flame
to a mateless moth that dives with daring.
She throws herself against the window frame
until she falls to the ground, despairing.
I bow my head and remember my place.
The waves of time create a great divide.
I am still in love, a pitiful case.
I miss him; yet, I feel him at my side.
So when I am buried beneath this tree
and the roots of love reach towards the sky,
may he come visit to remember me,
to sit in my shadow and wonder why …
Why he waited too long to taste the fruit
of yesterday's truth now torn to shatters.
I planted this tree and love gave it root;
and in this world, love is all that matters.
Linda Marie Van Tassell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tree-of-love-2/
