Clare Hornsby

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If my heart was a blossoming Judas tree
I would hang from it
And wait for you to come and cut me down.

If my heart was an apple tree 
In the orchard of my childhood
I would climb up boldly
And at the crown in a cradle of limbs 
You would hold me safe.

If my heart was a fig tree
Glossy and strong
I would grow it in a polished pot
And feed it with your love and water.

If my heart was a lakeside aspen 
Curving low to its reflection
I would chop it down in anger
And burn it on an autumn fire.

If my heart was an oak 
I would admire
Its patient wait through winter to
Glorious summer of fullness.

But my heart is an acorn
A seed of secret burden
Not yet grown. 



Feast of St Nicholas 2013