The Yew Tree

Published February 13, 2014 by rlmcdermott

she dresses
you in red
and takes
you to her bed

you think that I don’t know

but flowers
grow beside
my heart
and tell me
all their secrets

the small hotel
the river Seine
the Paris sky

pain is all I know these days

you lied

I was myself
until you came
and sat beside me
on a garden bench
and asked my name

I couldn’t turn away

two years have passed
since that bright day
the moon has danced
across so many skies
all painted blue and
I grow old and cannot
die for love of youThe Yew Tree

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