POETRY

The cruel hand

A poem

Photo by Kristijan Arsov on Unsplash

There I see my lovely tree
Swaying in the breeze, merry and glee!
Flowers adorn, white and yellow
Appeasing every passing fellow!
And then a cruel hand darts out
Plucking a flower in an ugly bout!
The tree struggles to protect and fight
Not giving up and holding it tight!
Fate doesn’t favour the tree
And the full branch breaks free!
The dark hand doesn’t care
It pulls and strips the flower bare,
Only to return once again
To put the next branch under strain!

Sometimes I worry and ponder
If I am the cruel monster,
Plucking away all your love and affection
Only to leave you broken and barren!

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