I, The Tree
It is afternoon
soon to be evening
as I wait for her to return
from the business of her day
I always wait for her
and hope she never goes away
I am reaching, always reaching
into the garden she has tended
for many lonely years
I know that she knows I look out for her
and would love to wipe away her tears
But the fingers of my hands are too hard
bent and curled
The best I can do is to soften her sorrow
with the surprise of spring
and after the cold white of winter
the promise of a green and bright tomorrow
Summer comes
a time I love to share
with her
and the garden
She – stooped –
digging and weeding
me with arms outstretched
in full and joyous glory once again
her in her own way
also feeding
Together we grow
each through our seasons
Every year I provide a carpet for her feet
she thanks me from her heart
I feel
and looks out for me
the Tree
hoping I will never go away
I know
with all the branches of my being
I never will
2017 & 2021
Category: Uncategorized
Poetry Rule No. 3 Establish (and maintain) good relationships with other suppliers – providing the bases are reciprocal
Red
Red was the colour
of your jacket
on the chair –
with slender, tender fingers
curled around a tumbler –
as you waited for me there
on our first date
Red was the colour of my jacket too
there was something about you –
the mark on your cheek
the way you held your head –
it wasn’t love at first sight
but I was happy for it to be
something else
instead
Since then our jackets
have become
a pair –
your slender, tender fingers
hold me now
in bed –
but I’ll always remember
our first date
when you and I
both wore
red
2017 & 2021
