And so beneath the ancient oaks of lonely time,
I pondered what it meant to have my heart mislaid:
Suffice to say that hate was yours and love was mine,
Which meant a dreadful cost would certainly be paid.
An acorn fell and landed by my weary feet -
It struck me then that nature has a greater ruse:
How cruel that life can be so cool and bittersweet
To gift such clarity and then leave me confused.
The stars and galaxies do not between them hear
If words of love or hate between our lips are passed;
Despite all that, your heart to mine is ever dear,
And so this oak will birth a love that always lasts.
This is brilliant, Ben, and wonderful to read.
You always amaze me with your amazing writing skills...and your ability to take something as simple as an acorn falling from a tree and turn into an inspiring piece about love.
Take care :)
Your rhymed and metered poetry is created like a web from a spider's multiple spinnerets. Each line forms a thread to be entangled with the other lines and woven into a stronger cord.
It calls to mind Bogart's line in Casablanca: "the problems of [two] little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world." In the cosmic scheme what happens to these two people is lost in the complexity of galaxian events.
However, to the people involved, as with the solitary acorn, it matters a lot. Saving this acorn from the squirrels is like carrying the exquisite painful death of the failed love with you, endowing the essence of the episode into the seed - you have created a horcrux.