Red Oak

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The pain of love after one's passed on

Submitted: July 25, 2008

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Submitted: July 25, 2008



His eyes remained as always partially aware

and, as always, it was under the Red Oak that remained his lair

the orange haze entwined with such a bright pink painted the skies

and he watched, rather lazily, and let out a sigh

too painful for him to glance to his side, no no

for not since he was a young lad had he sat here alone

her throne besides him now cried for her warmth

while she lay cold and breathless deep in the earth

he cursed himself for ever glancing her way

for his heart and it's restlessness engulfed in such a dismay

her tear shaped eyes, browned with a hint of green

her soft pink lips and her voice so sweet

she'd loved him, perhaps as much as he'd loved her

and the two of them together had created an untouchable world

when he'd first took her here, to his Red Oak and emerald field

her childish eyes had sparkled and her excitement had squealed

and for years they'd come and escape in this shade

she'd read from her diary her thoughts and her pain

and when the tear would moisten the pink of her cheek

he'd kiss it away, pull her close, and marvel at how quickly his heart had grown weak

he'd spent every moment , awake or asleep

keeping her near, within his reach

as he grew old, his hair fading to a colorless shade

she'd only seem to grow more youthful and breathless in a magical way

and so imagine his shock, his pain, his heart enraged

when her slight cough had worsened and she was so quickly taken away

her body without movement, her skin with no color

he'd fallen to his knees as he grasped her departure

solemnly he's continued, barely, discreet

for what do you march to when your hearts without a beat

only weeks gone by, and he returns faithfully to the shade of the Red Oak

trying to forget her, for memories only bring a reality of being alone

he waits impatienlty for his turn, for his fateful day

and as he waits, it is under the Red Oaks that he lays...

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