In wanting to re-mould this gentle tree
(its branches danced and swayed once, elegant
though shaded all the garden’s blooming plants)
he aimed to trim and shape its crown of leaves.
Departing from sweet natural beauty
an architect’s design he sought to grant
imbued with his own flair, vision – his stamp
and an elegance almost Japanese.
But she favoured a fairy forest wild
from ancient memories of land untamed
inspired not by plans, nor tagged and named,
left free to grow like wonder in a child.
‘Tween wild and pruned a compromise was made:
sheared branches leave the sun on plants to smile.
A sonnet about garden wars for NaPoWriMo day 23 and the anniversary of Shakespeare’s death.