Flower Of The Vines

Flower of the Vines
Better things have happened,None have shed more tears than thus,It's like the flower in the dead of winter,Torn between two vines, Loving only one,The other funereal, knowingly broken,Like the tree who stands in snow,Deprived of green leaves,Those deceased and brown scattered around its roots,The roots that are bygone and cadaverous,Who might never look beguiled again,When who shall hunt the deer under this tree?Its dark, limp body fallen against the pure ground,Blood drenching the flower and vines,It's breath ever growing,Showering the world in desolate melancholy,To desire only one thing,But to be awoken in a hellish fantasy.
Tarek Nassif
2005