Parasite

She grew
Slowly, drawing the strength from my trunk
Seductively twining her sensuous tendrils
Around my boughs and limbs
Tapping her roots into my veins
Sucking the sap
And thriving.

I looked on unconcerned - the mighty Oak,
For it did not hurt me then.
I felt an emotion: it was not love;
Compassion perhaps -
But I was too young and strong to care.

She grew.
And flowered.
And I felt love
Because her flowers were part of me,
Born out of the sap of my veins
And sustained by its strength.

She grew
Sending her roots deeper into my veins
Selfishly sucking
The very life blood out of me.
She thrived,
But her flowers withered
Bewildered, Uncomprehending,
Unable to witness the brutality of attack
On their Father.

And it hurts me now
Because the mighty Oak is older.
It hurts me now
Because I want to break out
Of the unnatural fetters
Of her sensuous tendrils
To break out of the bondage that everyday
Saps one more ounce of strength,
Another drop of desire to live.

The mighty Oak is stunted
Covered from trunk to bough to limb
With a parasitic network of roots
That sucks inexorably...

She grows.