The winding branches clasp the mortal torso
Seething and writhing branches.
The living earth and its substances.
The leaves neatly nestled in a flurried shape
To hide the vision of what the eyes try not to escape.
Scraping gently against the torso, making not a scratch
Hatching desires of nature awe, no vision can match.
The myriad of colours cascade but none are as powerful
As the one that was made by the mortal touch
This tree as such shields the irrefutable beauty.
So that no eyes can touch.
No eyes can look
And so there can be no mortal sensual touch
As much as the leaves hide the seasons change and the leaves subside
Where they once resided, they recede
And the eyes look upon and are filled with greed
More visions to have of this embrace
In a place where nature sits and waits.
Nature heeds this embrace
Nurture takes a heightened place
Let love of the wild never replace
The love you have for the one shielded in this place
The guise of nature is unveiled
And union once again seeks to prevail.