A Green, Green Tree
Shakespeare’s love
may have been like
a red, red rose,
all perfume and
beauty,
but by the end of the
summer
they’re withered,
brown,
moldering
on the compost heap.
Our love
Pinus Contorta,
strong,
a little twisted,
but true
and resilient,
able to be battered
by life’s gale force
winds,
storms,
the ravages of
survival,
and even under
intense heat and
pressure,
grows and thrives.
Shakespeare
can keep his roses,
relish
their short-lived
blossoms.
I
will breath deep
our resinous
fragrance,
continue to grow,
with you,
taller and taller,
watching the flowers,
and others,
come and go,
while we dig our
roots
a little bit deeper,
bend but not break
at what comes our
way,
and enjoy the view,
the waves
roaring to shore
below.
James Rodgers 05/19/15
I like the center justification of this love poem, James. Very nice.
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