POETRY

 Sowing and Reaping

 

We fell in love and

In my heart I dug a small hole and

Planted an acorn for you.

 

In your heart

You ploughed a whole field and

Planted spinach.

 

And over the years

I watered my sapling and it grew

Into a towering, robust Oak.

And you continued to reap and plant spinach.

And I do love spinach.

 

But you grew tired,

Perhaps from the hard work of tending your field,

Or perhaps you did not like the shade my Oak cast.

Perhaps you wanted someone

Who could trade with you:

Carrots for spinach

Or some such similar crop.

 

So you bulldozed my Oak.

You toppled it.

And when it fell,

It splintered beyond repair;

Its great roots up-ended, stand exposed.

 

This cannot be undone.

You cannot right the Oak.

It will never grow again.

We will never enjoy its noble splendour; its generous shade.

 

But you can move ahead unaffected,

Because what you planted was shallow,

Labour-intensive,

But easily reproduced.

 

I grieve my Oak.