The Natured Course That Was Mis-Nurtured Poem by Jacques De Boys

I pulled a twig from the tree & watched its finite linger.
At youth, I wanted too much my dust to be mingled upon yours.
However, I have never met the grass that belittled the sky.
For the grounds of suspicion-
If you are narrowing your love through drops of rain..., please let me know beforehand.
For I'm at a middle aged care for it. You cut open my chest, examined the heart-
but new no more than I did. 
Only another woman's beauty will drink of your mind.
So farewell my dear. My youth is well off... Enclosed in an attic grace...somewhere.