The tree

Happy Christmas everyone.


The tree

In childhood days when I was low there was a tree to whom I’d go

And spill my heart of all its woes but that was many years ago.

When sorrow choked me thick and dark I’d rest my face against its bark

My tears would trickle salty wet,  it never told a secret yet.

Its roots they stretched out wide and deep they even reached into my sleep

Id dream of days beneath its shade and picnics in that sheltered glade

Where stretched upon the grass I’d lie and see the fragments of the sky

Between the leaves the clouds would race,  the sun would show its golden face

Id think of all the lives it’s seen; the hopes the loves and shattered dreams

Around the tree the world would turn but never of its wisdom learn.

If I go back I’d only see an old and blackened maple tree – a hole is where its heart should be

For lightning cleft it right in twain,  the tree was neer the same again

But still in dreams and memory clear it grows and flowers every year

It gives me solace when I’m weak, though tears now dry upon my cheek.





About Marie

An eccentric & quirky artist and writer who fills her time between fantasy roleplaying sessions with painting, writing and playing her guitar (rather badly). Usually to be found with paint-stained fingers surrounded by books and tubes of acrylic paint.
This entry was posted in Poem, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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