The Fallen Champa Tree

I turned slyly away from 

a fallen friend,

the mellow red comrade 

whose philosophy I watered once.

She pleaded... Not guilty;

it was the storm.

I walked away, and now,

in the night it haunts me,

an eerie song.

I toss and turn.

Sprawled on her side,

helpless, bleeding perhaps,

while I rushed 

toward the unkempt side,

the place where I depart

from empathy,

and opt for a juggle,

a skip across time and space,

balancing the lefts and rights

of breathing a lie, living a truth.

A fairy tale rings the bell,

where a proud man

fell to his knees

and then the author helped

him become a fable

for little kids

to learn from.

Lesson One: Never walk away

when aspiration bites the dust.

But, oh but, I am in a perpetual fall.

The Epilogue

She stands tall again,

an arm missing

but the soul green, 

evergreen...

Have you seen the soul,

I prod my shadow

as he turns away again,

hiding his face,

fading into the anonymity

offered by a setting sun.

-- Leslie Xavier