As a youth this man climbed through a tree,
It rubbed his fleshy knees with smile and groan
As cherries balanced red above the lea,
Akin the leaves and branches, softly blown.
Having grown bored, he broke the serene scene,
When he carved, with sweat and tiring arm,
The ill word; ‘Love, ’ into the trunk’s demean
In itching impulse, meaning gentle harm.
Long years later he looks down with awe,
Growth has almost overgrown the wound,
But not quite; he'd carved around a core,
And caused an early death, scars half-cocooned.
Its fruit had lain decaying on the ground;
Stark branches - far forgotten; what he’d found.
Sean Godley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stark-branches/
