~HAWTHORN~
It began before we met,
A thousand lifetimes ago.
When you, a lowly pauper,
Set eyes on the king’s daughter.
Knowing you could not have her,
You vowed not to despair;
The only thing you held to your name,
Was an expertise in love’s game.
Though she, betrothed to another,
Never doth fancy a lover,
Found herself wanting another,
Once she set eyes on the pauper;
As he stood in the parlor,
Waiting to climb fate’s ladder.
He spoke words she’d heard before,
But found herself wanting more.
Of what she desired,
She knew not.
But solemnly vowed to tie love’s knot,
With none other than the pauper.
Though they spoke not of their encounter,
Every night was filled with laughter;
A secret shared between two hearts
Alone together, at last.
As the moon lit up the sky,
Late in the month of May,
Their lips touched
-slowly parted,
And opened the doorway to her heart.
Therein he reached
and planted a seed;
One not of flesh and blood borne,
But of two souls intertwined.
She knew not what he had sown,
Was the seed of the hawthorn;
Set to blossom when spring is nigh,
And the snow bade farewell.
But the trees stayed not silent,
And told the walls of the palace.
Eager to listen,
Fast to speak,
And spread like cancer,
All the secrets of their encounter.
T’was there it ended,
-Her love beheaded,
And saw not the light of day;
When the flowers blossomed,
And the snow bade farewell,
Late in the month of May.
With love lost,
Its branches grew,
Raging like an untamed flame,
And wrapped its arms around her heart.
She had not her lover
-The beloved planter.
Its thorns pierced and destroyed,
What they sought to protect.
Day and night, life thwarted.
Even in death, never departed.
We met again,
In this lifetime.
Though I knew you not,
I saw you in my dreams,
And hoped you’d be someone else.
But fate led me up the ladder,
And I found you once more,
In the parlor,
Late in the month of May.
Not one, not two,
But ten times younger,
With your heart bequeathed to another.
T’was then I felt it once again.
In my soul, the hawthorn,
Grew like a raging forest.
I knew not when it was planted,
But deep inside, it sprouted,
And wrapped its arms around my heart.
Day and night, life thwarting.
Even in slumber, never departing.
And it grew just as before.
In this lifetime
Set to be,
My nemesis
And heart thorn.