One Was Taken, One Was Left. Poem by Lazarus Knix

It was the roots of a larger oak tree
Feeling it’s way beneath the young flower
Which bore only buds on his thin green head.
His eyes were white with youth, a slim body
Not accustomed to such a foreign touch.

The roots sucked all water away from him,
Like a bumblebee crazed for sweet honey.
The flower felt a drain, his roots were dry,
Barren, parched by a spiritual drought.
Softly, his buds blossomed into knowing.