My fig-tree of imagination
That is waving his hands at me
Is he welcoming me, for a kiss
Or does my presence go amiss?
I cannot tell from the look of his veiny arms.
I cannot tell from the way he sways in the rhythm of the wind
I cannot tell from the sparkling smile in his bud-eyes.
Is he looking at me,
Or a shadow behind me
Or an apparition in front of me?
I do not know.
But I know that the last thing I would ever want,
Is to drown him in the over-flowing ocean of my love.