So from the prison of denial
the monster, love, escaped
and sat beneath a lonesome tree
in plot of plan of future moves.
This took a time, the longest time,
by standards set and known
by those who walked the trail
and laid down signs and symbols.
Perhaps they blew away or sunk into the sand
and I know they didn’t shout and scream
as a means of being heard
and so that lithe escapee
stayed rooted to the spot.
Love starved, you see, just like me
amidst blueprints, maps, and doodles
because every way it thought to go
led to the unknown.
The tree grew and prospered,
the escapee shrivelled, died,
and so be careful one and all …
don’t sit beneath a tree!