POETRY
The cruel hand
A poem
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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