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