Your Fingertips

Seduced is now my spoiled bedroom,
To an embrace of a blue gleam sky,
Right beneath the lusty shades of a maple,
Through the reach of a little glass window!

Last winter you maple wished your leaves away,
When the western cold grew in you to take all away!
Indeed you lost your beauty to a freezing duty,
But survived your trunk to time's perish and decay!

Maple tree, are you like my beloved,
Who guards alone a green garden,
From the savages of a winter witch?
And when winter hurts she prays on her knees,
Twisting her tiny fingers to roll all prayer beads!
Like the tiny twigs on your branches,
Shivering on a loathing load of pretty snow sores!

My lovely maple, now the spring is here,
And you grow in your flesh with the sign of green,
To shade my pain and grow my hopes!
But tomorrow, winter may strike in your breast,
With it's witchcraft and weird gestures!
And as you kneel with your praying twigs,
Let me kneel to hold my heart and breath,
Close to your tiny fingers through this night of trials,
That a mindless cold can never snatch,
Your mind of gold and heart of pearl that I ever loved!