Treasure Island

A. Z. M. M. Moksedul Milon

A Wilting Tree

I am a tree of despair,
Stark naked in this winter,
With all my leaves of happiness gone;
You are a cruel villager,
Collecting and burning them
To warm yourself with a fire.

I wouldn't mind losing all my foliage
If it could make a fire
To burn your heart to a charcoal;
And then you would have to seek
All the sap of my heavenly love
To cool and care your burns.

I wouldn't mind losing all my blossoms
If they could produce a smell
To poison you to love;
And then you would have to seek
The juice of my passion
To counteract your indecision.

I wouldn't mind if all my branches withered
To touch your silky black hair,
Rosy cheek and coral red amorous lips;
I would then be immortal,
With no winter but all spring;
But then you would surely be lost again.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, March 26, 2013

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