Where the beaten, acorn littered <br />Path divides itself into two <br />beside a thorny skin ripping <br />leafless bush. <br />A small weed concealed trickle <br />of a track leads us to the last <br />reminder of yesteryears love. <br />Over caved in mole hills <br />under limbo luring branches <br />is a sqandron of stern looking <br />soldier straight trees. <br />A little behind their line <br />Is our tree. <br />Engraved with the words of <br />sweet young love. <br />The moss had grown inpatient <br />and had snuggled itself into <br />the lettered grooves. <br />Everything was how we had left it: <br />Broken branches still hanging <br />in the silent misty air, <br />bruised or half eaten berries <br />still blood red. <br />Endless tennis nets of spider webs <br />that sparkled with tiny droplets of dew. <br />Everything had remained the same <br />nature had no need to change. <br />if only we had stayed here too.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/v-t-4-e-p-lovers-words-engraved-on-a-tree/
