The Avenue (Poetry)
10th November 2013
They still stand strong in memory —
shed moving patterns on that long-lost path
they dapple dreams — their greens a light-spun elegy
to all the fallen beauty of the past.
Who sentenced them — who butchered them
and tore their architecture limb from limb
seems monsterous — that lack of empathy
with nature — I can find no name for him.
While images survive and love endures
their pastel shades will haunt that ruined ground
the winds mourn shrill their absence — searching for
tree-voices — a lost avenue of sound.
shed moving patterns on that long-lost path
they dapple dreams — their greens a light-spun elegy
to all the fallen beauty of the past.
Who sentenced them — who butchered them
and tore their architecture limb from limb
seems monsterous — that lack of empathy
with nature — I can find no name for him.
While images survive and love endures
their pastel shades will haunt that ruined ground
the winds mourn shrill their absence — searching for
tree-voices — a lost avenue of sound.