Year after year my tree
wouldn't blossom
in some springs
there was a promise
in certain buds
yet summer's heat
failed to find them
I replanted my tree
several times
thus it was not the soil
which prevented my tree
from flowering
A tree surgeon came
and told me
that my tree was alright
but it had no hear, for
the season when its heart
had to grow
was cold and wet
and later when it was hot and dry
a forest fire came
and sapped away
all desire
I tried talking to my tree
but it had all it could
do with wind and rain
and lightening and lady bugs
and with children who carved
their initials into its soul
so my words went unheeded
still
I would like to see one white flower
appear
and turn to one fine fruit
for me to taste one day
and then I can say
to my tree:
"I tasted of thee."