She Was a Teenage Tree Mage

Her roots reach around to unravel my soul.

Botanical bombast's imbuing her bole.

Her branches are grasping at shreds of the sky.

Her soil seems to teem with the sound of her sigh.

The seeds of her spirit are sown in my sight.

I'm deep in the weeds of her wilding delight.

The leaves of her love are alive with the verd

Of lingering laughter and whispery word.

She's bare in the bloom of a blissful embrace.

Her bosom's the blossom of estival grace.

Her grove is aglow in the growing romance.

Its glimmering glee is enchanting my glance.

Her forest's a force of felicitous fate.

Her face is a flower with power to sate.

Dryadic desire's afire in full.

I'm doomed in the draw of her delicate pull.

The blood of the rose is my chosen defeat.

It shows what it knows as it flows in the heat.

The secrets it sings bring the sting of the thorn.

By the pain that it pays, a new season is born.