Scarlet clouds skinny-dip
In the wealth of your limbs,
Highlighting your glorious
State of grace,
And I am your audience
Applauding unrehearsed magnificence;
Intensely poignant,
This simple display,
To intrigue and inspire
The likes of Kilmer.
“More, ” I fiercely cry.
“More! ”
Alas, the sun has done her duty
And she’s fled to western horizons,
Leaving me to mourn the sight
Of your moss-draped canopy
Wrestling with the sky
For consideration,
But oh, Live Oak,
You need not fear my memory.
I shall dream of you
As I slumber beneath your branches.
When the sun comes to visit again,
You’ll see me smile once more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem