Her Sword

A Shakespearean Sonnet - (08/22/09)

Crystals shining the orange star
Jewel studded life-filled blade
Held right way up, upon never hard
Returns to the place of which was made

Diamonds shining the silver moon
With emerald hilt, the sword of life
Dodges and ducks the wind's swoon
Tattered and torn by thy gardener's knife

Born and brought up by its own roots
Torn and trimmed to present
Forced to it's knees by a pair of boots
But rising up again without a single dent

Mother Nature's sword within stone
Abundant and many, never alone