Tale of A Growing Mahogany

Once when I dwelled in a deep dull jungle

Dense and dark and dirty tangle

In my own right stood aloof

Dim and dumb and downright single.

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Few giant trees, villains for all

Their arrogance forever growing tall

Suppressed the nascent flowery shrubs

Deprived were they and left to pall.

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Their shadows jointly covered the forest

Each leaf each twig was put to test

To show them if they can survive

Arrested was the jest, the mildest.

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Beneath them in a heap of dead mass

Strangled even a blade of grass

From nauseating filth they drew

Their growth over youth’s carcass.

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Some vines though were very nimble

Glued to the giants away from bumble

Ate away the dead remains

Their twisted tendrils kept to babble.

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I tried to grow under one of them

And tried to prosper in the selfish helm

When trimmed were my growing shoots

I knew, it was no munificent elm.

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It’s not that I drank, in peevish agony

It is a tale of a growing Mahogany

All the while I grew my willful roots

To grow me out of this stature, Lemony.