The Old Oak Tree (Acrostic) Poem by Martin Moore
The Old Oak Tree (Acrostic)
Tangled web of oaken limbs
Hold my memories
Entombed in acorn myth
Open your dream-like doors
Let my wanton wishes fly
Devoid of all incumbrance
Open your ancient arms
Above your crown of gold
Knitted in autumn patterns
Take them on your journey
Return when hope alights
Every fitful night of broken sleep
Every fearful hour inbetween
Friday, October 20, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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4/20/2024 1:02:00 AM # 1.0.0.1119
