The Loving-Tree Poem by Jackie Allen

When mornings are born each day and anew...
And skies are painted a crystal-clear robin's
Egg blue, the sun dances and kisses with hot
Lip's breeze, the shoulders of the loving-tree.

Its canopy of inciting passion blooms
Flowers... sweetly perfumed... with honeyed scents
Of romance. Beneath its branches, love makes
A path. And in its knowing, leaves footprints.

When shadow of dissension dares to fall
Dark on the shoulders of the loving tree, amid
Suspicion or shades of dread, and dares paint
Rejection's countenance with fear of revenge,

Should not love bend in time with the weather?
As young saplings do? If they are to survive? Should
Not lovers then take some time to brave the tempest?
And, should not love have a chance to grow anew?

The canopy of the loving-tree blooms
Flowers... sweetly perfumed... with honeyed scents
Of romance. Beneath its branches, love makes
A path. And in its knowing, leaves footprints.