As lifeblood drains and dries in aged veins, <br />as breaths become compressed in heaving breasts, <br />when racing steps slow down to stumbled strains, <br />can aching hearts respond to love’s requests? <br /> <br />As sturdy oaks dry up each year in sleep, <br />leaves, trampled dead mementos that abound, <br />with branches drooping, bark encircling, deep <br />distressed, lie caskets strewn upon the ground. <br /> <br />Each Spring the beat of Nature’s loving hearts <br />awakens lifeless creatures, nectar, sweet, <br />recoursing though their souls as death departs <br />to let love live and let new lovers meet. <br /> <br />You are the Spring that keeps new life in me <br />As I, your love, remain your oaken tree.<br /><br />Lorenzo Costigliolo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-oak-sonnet-12/
