She waits

there is a place that if was searched for, 
one could never find, 
A place upon which only by 
when lost and wayward wanderds trip 
and fall 
can it be stumbled. 
  If ever you've felt love or hope, 
and then have known their absence 
and wondered, loe, 
where did that go?
This place would be your answer.
  Its here where lives 
and has lived since 
beyond our scope of fathom, 
That temptress witch
That wickedness
that is the crone catalpa
 
  With clustered spades, 
downhanged and wide 
and flush of fragrant flowers blushed,
she offers shade from blazing skies
and sweets the air with but her touch
  Her gnarling, 
outreached, 
dendrous tendrils 
jeweled in late June velvet blooms
The crone catalpa waits 
Unmoving
Baiting
Luring
men to doom