- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Tree
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On the banks of a babbling brook
stands a sagely tree.
One that has seen my look
of sorrow and glee.
As a babe I was held
in caring embrace.
By the tree still unfelled
from suns angry face.
As a child I could safely play
scout for fish.
Under spreading bows lay
carving my niche.
As a boy I was richly taught
under shielding arms.
Safe from being caught
by the devils charms.
And now as a man, grown
I there still pause.
Knowing I’ll be never alone
and helped in every cause.
I run my hands over darkened skin
scars there richly sown.
Craftly carved by children akin
but not of it’s own.
It’s only then I fully realise
many lives he touch.
His care and love the size
unfathomed, much.
But for this tree at the babbling brook
I would’ve withered.
My life long been fatally shook
into darkness slithered.
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