When the leaf bud sprang and blossomed
I had always thought I was getting what
my heart infinitely wanted.

The sea of brown elevated my confidence
to masterful ancient artful levels

Though it wasn't you that had the mark
of the devil

You were a servant of the skill through
use of intellectual endeavors

Craving the red stained sweetness of
this rebels varying medieval
edible lips

All along the wood planked
grooves
Was a tactical move
one could not so easily forget

© 2014 Christina Jackson