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The last hippy poet of the woodstock generation

Excerpt-10:  A poem about unrequited love.

branches of birches 
bare fingers stretching 
reaching out to the open sky 
—anger 
like the snaking of the river 
winds and winds 
as it bends its way around you 
rumors abound 
like moss on the trailhead 
—clinging 

hanging on 
to your madness 
bound to sting 
like the bee 
close enough to buzz you 
as you realize the tables 
are turned now 
can’t take any more sadness 
‘cause you’ve already given it all 

your petite and private 
meanderings 
are a mind full 
as you turn and run 
from the sun 
the love no longer shining 
just binding you down 
in the branches of the birches 
reaching out to remember 
the tears of yesterday’s yearning 

the inevitability 
of your turning 
is bound to constrict 
the flame 
while the branches of the birches 
—scream 
it’ll never be the same 

as you search 
the flickering shadows 
in the tunnel to your heart 
you’re angry 
‘cause you’ve lost at love 
though you never would take part 

"Branches Of Birches" ​- © C. Steven Blue 3/17/2015
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  • Books
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  • contact
  • Personal Links
  • Writing Resources