January 9: The Prince

From squalid soil a shriveled sapling sprang,
Which grew into a convoluted tree,
Whose listless leaves from blackened branches hang,
Its twisted shape compelled the birds to flee.

It gave no shade or succor to the tired,
And bore no fruits or flowers on its limbs.
Abhorrence and disquiet it inspires,
Except in those who offer it a hymn.

For though the tree fell many seasons past,
In falling, it revealed its fortitude,
For fire, disease, and drought did it outlast,
And by its loss, the forest was renewed.

And in the spring, when sunshine melts the snows,
Within its limbs, a silver lily grows.

Happy 54th birthday, Severus Snape!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s