Cedrus deodara

Ancient knaves of hearts play

and draw you; among their games

of chess, neutral as the stairs.

Under low-lying umbrellas and

remembrances of tea, a Sorrow

grows its hunger for your embrace

with an enormity of a sea.

Time with reckless ardour, opens

your pavilion of impermanence.

Retrieved from its aristocratic journey

of our secret self; this devotional forest

of your thousand Summers’ fugue.

All mouth, your eyes resound.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Renée S’s story.