She was angry with me,
She made her lover insult me.
She was jealous of what I do,
She complained it seriously, to many of you.
She kept the madness and fears,
She allowed the wrath to grow.
I showered her blue tree with tolerance and smiles,
And sent forgiveness to her deceitful wiles.
But the blue tree keeps growing,
Things don't look glory or glowing.
She beholds the harmful tree shine,
I'm glad the tree is NOT mine.
Then into the garden stole,
When the evening has masked the pole,
I'm pleased to see,
I have outstretched beneath this blue tree.
Monday Poetry Potluck