GloMag GloMagMarch2019 - Page 357

THE SPEAKING TREE Like some lecherous person’s sudden urge, Or like the hungry jaws of a dissolute tigress, My desire wants to come out of my old burg. And, insists me to take part in another race. But, my reluctant legs and hands remind me, That my days of golden age are gone forever. So, I take a seat under a nameless roadside tree; And, try to regain my lost wealth like a craver. 357