he wouldn't even have recognized where he went wrong

hands open in front of frozen faces-- we bled so long

at once startled and stalled, only to start again with tender feet

unconcious of strewn brambles and sharp rocks lined with peet

storied grows this embattled forest in its rarest color blend

deep twisted roots unaware of man's pleasurable pain to rend

upon the delicate drifting balance of summer's plaintive mood

where famed star-crossed lovers meet not the hearts who brood

Stevie Smith's weaved words waft along on the breeze of branches

betrayal's nagging sorrow, drowning, within split second chances

yet we jump up and cup them in our upturned hands as they land

though even the passing fairies give us their fiercest reprimand

alas, here within the gold flickering light of their temperate place

such as we mere mortals with impassioned hands, quick do disgrace

theiving the very air its its passing poetry with our conceited grins

thus cursed to eternal belief that it's the greedy soul who wins

blessed be, it is the sparse few with humility who yet remain

no shallow spirit's their selfish love not even a Narcissus could feign

some say not a sickened man be blamed for his foolish lack of sense

but for the small and humble shall nature's beauty be the recompense