Domme (Part 2): and the tree

I sat there sitting there was this tree standing in the middle of Clayton.

I watched this tree, and many hundreds of birds circled her and sat in her branches.

And my hope circled round her, my mind a bird, sat among her pink leaves, offering me respite from the street.

I thought you passed, if you’d stopped to offer me a lift, better than a bus, even that, having no choice: you grant a fantasy.

Went back round this tree, celebrated by the birds and me, Lady, enchanting us, mid conformity, our minds fluttering.

In Clayton stands a magical tree. But noone notices romantic beings from the Otherworld, ‘cept the birds and me.

As we gather round her majesty. A door opens inside her trunk, beckons me in, but then a Goth girl passes with a collar on,

In fascination, I stare at her, naughty, guilty, O, domme morrigan, come away from here, let me knock on your tree.

So many girls fluttering, find respite from the world in your arms. Birds circling an enchanted dominatrix, like me.