As I grew concealed by the raiment of a flame tree,
The slant of dawn’s light never seemed to catch me;
Shivering warmth’s fleet was my rule amid a worn hollow
With only refracted gleams teased through her leaves to follow.
Once, she blossomed the will of crimson among stoic sheen.
Once, limbs unfurled, stretching keen to bear light in her green.
Once, this light focused sharp through a drop of morning dew
to sign a faint pin burn reamed slow, finely twisting her hue.
Decadence seemed shy to scar until embedded in her rings
that circled into my nursing ply as I sat under leafed awnings
Venturing afraid along her threadbare limbs, willing her to bud
solely to find that only to distant winds her blanched veins flood.
Torn I now stand at the split of her last two crisped leaves
With this light singeing liquid innocence till I burn with truth:
A sickle shade unwittingly charred away the pith of my youth.
Will regret limit desire to the cindered flame tree’s sleuth?
