THE SNAKE, THE AXE AND THE HEART

THE SNAKE, THE AXE AND THE HEART

I drew a snake of leaves and twigs,
With twisting curves and little sprigs,
It curled around with watchful eyes,
Beneath the ever changing skies.

Beside it stood an axe so still,
As though it waited for the will,
Of someone brave enough to choose,
Which path to take and which to lose.

The snake was winding round the heart,
As if it never meant to part,
It held it gently in its coil,
But could that love be worth the toil?

The axe was sharp, the heart was red,
With all the things we never said,
The snake looked calm, the axe looked cold,
A story waiting to unfold.

Was it a warning, was it fate,
A love that came a little late,
Or was the heart so scared to break,
It needed more than love to wake?

The leaves were dancing in the breeze,
The snake was moving through the trees,
While every twig and branch appeared,
To show the things we loved and feared.

Perhaps the axe could set it free,
Or perhaps the snake was meant to be,
For sometimes love can twist and turn,
And sometimes hearts refuse to learn.

The heart still beat beneath the vine,
Still hoping that one day would shine,
For even hearts that have been bruised,
Can find the love they once refused.

So let the snake curl round it tight,
And let the axe remain in sight,
For every picture tells a tale,
Of love that bends but will not fail.

And if you ask me what I see,
I see a little part of me,
A heart that twists, a heart that grows,
And nobody knows where the story goes.