I Offer This Branch

Was the change of heart was suddenly there?

Did it mean a thing, did you really care?

Did it fade slowly; when did it start so?

I know you don’t know, but watch I can grow.


It’s my fault not seeing, my work, and my  being.

My head is agreeing, my heart I’m burying.

Is there one more chance; please don’t take this stance?

Change heart to romance, I offer this branch.


© 2011 Michael Yost



16 responses to “I Offer This Branch

  1. Oh, very sweet and open-hearted–and hopeful.


  2. i hope that they take it…was just reading a similar one shot…hurting one we love inadvertant or inattention sits heavy…


  3. hi michael,

    very beautifully expressed and i love the concept of offering a branch and what it represents…reaching out and connecting and growing and holding on…

    i was touched by your sensitivity and ability to express your deepest emotions in such a way that the reader is moved by them …when reading poetry one is always left with how did the poem leave them feeling…you’ve done a great job with sharing your heart…

    nice write…


  4. There’s a lot of conflict here, a very knotted up feel, despite ending on a conciliatory note. Hope writing it out was helpful.


  5. So much passion in admitting we may have overlooked our lover.You are not the only one who didn’t see it coming. Your poem may go a long way to reconciliation I pray your branch is accepted. NFN


  6. Very sweet. So hard to admit when you are wrong, but love is worth it.


  7. First step is to admit
    And not go into some fit
    Really has a great beat
    And it can be hard but of course nothing is nice and neat


  8. Awwwh, how sad. Don’t offer the branch though – they already walked away, not seeing how beautiful it is – their sight is tainted with other desires than yours and they don’t meld – like water and oil – they can’t. Water will rot the branch and oil will make it sticky – killing butterflies and creatures that nest inside. Let them walk away, and be yourself. Many feet, feathers, wings and skins will nestle and love the beauty of your shelter.


  9. So, did you take the branch, Michael. Never works for me!

    Sad poem.


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