At my feet you lay the oak—
Ancient relic, mystery's cloak,
Burning strong with bygone kiss—
The lover's metamorphosis!
Tiny acorn's patriarch,
Refulgent, indefatigable spark,
Ignites the smoldering reverie,
A breath away from charred debris.
Ponderous curls the sap-filled smoke,
Whipped by fiery counterstroke,
Swirling, trembling, all ablaze,
Infiltrating woeful gaze.
Gone now the secrets in the rings,
Betraying jocund banterings;
No more the scent of gypsy pipe,
Diffused in sorrow's archetype.
Blackened veins—redeeming flash—
Flamed again through embers' ash,
Course sapling's arms, where mourning dove,
Sanguine, sings of engrained love!