It Was A Living Guard (Parody) Poem by Gert Strydom

It was a living guard
I think, when reality
started. That walked off his piece of lawn
feeling affectionate,
laying down his head and wordless
against the tree,
became friends with it.

A first tree
from which he as a guard
paced off his way,
while it screamed next to him,
he pulled
and the stem was stripped off to the top,
until he saw:
the awakening of a young branch
that after the first pruning
carefree
started flowering.

But when the tree started to shake and offspring
started budding into the corner of the garden,
growing under the tablecloth,
to the woman, nobody in that summer
thought
to tell the guard
about the meaning. It was a living guard,
if I do not have it wrong,
that walked away from his piece of lawn.