Poetica 38

I was lost in the woods but there you were beckoning me to your forest.
Your ethereal beauty, crowning your plains and mounds.

You noticed my eyes were fixed on the fruits you owned.
Holding my hand, you led me to your royal canopy.

As you told of your dry spell, you found my growing wood.
I was easily convinced to move it to your bedding.

You looked up as the rains came down on my trunk.
As your flowers bloomed, you’d convinced me to plant a new tree.

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