a peach tree

I was angry with my foe
I hid it, my ire did grow.
And I tendered it in fears,
Day and night with my tears:
And I dried it with smiles,
And with false whispers.
And it grew day by day.
Till it bore a peach pretty,
And my foe saw it ripen
and knew it was mine.
And into my secret garden,
When all’s veiled in the dark;
In the morning delighted I see;
My foe trying to reach the tree.

Author’s note: This is my take on William Blake’s “A Poison Tree.” I have to write this before saying goodbye to today and hello to tomorrow, lest all negative feelings should remain in my mind’s garden. For it is how I feel sometimes… But do we not?…

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