No,
I had
No real love
For such lightness
And memory preserved in old tree trunks.
They held no peace for someone such as I.
Without passion
They were just
Sort of
Dead.
It was a case of of wand'ring in the head
That lead to wand'ring just as much alone
Now feeling dust of earth and leafy bone
In forests full of secrets left unsaid.
Memr'y lays him down in needly bed
Beneath a fir to slumber for his own
And feel the consequence of the unknown
For every day he let love go instead.
For who if in a forest utters words
And without knowledge plants them in the earth
Expects the grass to murmur sweet new tongues
And give forth newborn secrets yet unheard?
The trunks of trees engage in ancient mirth,
Bely the memories of daydream young.
So softly the words hung
And hushed the forest with their weight and sighs
And took to task the past and all its lies.
As trees, they grow so wise.
In stillness like a mist the mem'ry waits
For wanderers whose secrets are a gate.
postscript
A caudate sonnet and a two-stanza tetractys for the two forms, one theme contest.