The “tree of hope” doth bear scant fruit
‘T is old and withered as the skin of aged
Held upright yet leaning by atrophied roots
My mind recalls chapters of past ripened pages
Ah! When I was but young there sat on my tongue
The promise of tomorrow; it hath a taste most sweet
Now in distant churchyard a lone bell is rung
Doth resonate in mine head, take leave through my feet
Yet, I’d be remiss to not kiss exalted memories
For yesterday’s peaches clung heavy on the limb
The fields of circumstance, rimmed by clustered trees
Upon which so hung, that which I could trim
Juicy and delectable, there for the picking
I snatched a precious few ne’er thinking of a sack
With reckless abandon, and fingers moist and sticking
A “Dipso-Gypso,” ‘t was foresight that I lacked
The once sagging boughs were stripped of their weight
By others who saw fortune alive on bending sprig
I was carefree, ‘t was me, me, me, awakening too late
My sole decaying tree bears little else but twigs
Then on a day when fog was laid thick atop the ground
I eyed my forlorn tree for single growth of hope
That bell began to ring again, ‘t was the only earthly sound
My calloused hands, desponding hands, so began to grope
‘T is futile, I so thought, as I struggled to the peak
This bark and wood most barren, many days gone by
I climbed at great peril, and was greeted by a peek
Mine hands began to tremble, mine eyes began to cry
There in solitary, clung “one” surviving, shriveled treat
I painstakingly reached out, one last bite of mirth
As I knocked on wood, branch gave way, head followed flailing feet
The bell tolled but once, “hopeless” lay on Earth
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