This is a Poem I wrote to commemorate a tree that was cut down on which I used to play as a child. Actually it was cut down and used to fuel a bonfire on guy-forks. Anyhow, enjoy my work... The Oak Tree
I used to be an oak tree.
Used to swing in the breeze,
And shiver in the snow,
And laugh in the sun.
I used to have a friend call Robin,
Who lived in my leaves.
He would fly away to collect his nest,
I was his home, I was his friend.
Children would play on me,
From early to late year.
They used to swing on my branches,
Hide in my roots,
Run around my trunk,
Play childhood games climbing my neck.
They would run under me,
When rain began to fall,
From winds and thunder and lightening,
So I would protect them from the storm.
I used to have a bench
At the bottom of my bark.
An old woman used to sit on it,
Share to me her feelings and thoughts.
She used to tell me all her problems
And I would listen with good grace.
And in reply for my patient ear,
She’d come back and feed the bird
Just that one-day, once every week.
One day she didn't come back,
And has never come back since,
And from there on the bench was clear,
That one-day a week.
I used to grow strong and tall,
And scatter leaves all round the park.
But one day they got tied of me
And cut down my great, mighty trunk.
Now I'm just a tree stump,
With ivy growing round my roots.
I lay next to a playground,
And look the same from June to May.
I used to be an oak tree,
I don’t do that these days.
By kjate95
I hope you like my take on an oak tree. I guess what this really shows is that people live life in the fast lanes far too much, never taking in what is really there. This tree would be a classic example of that, where to some, such as the old woman, this tree meant the world. But to others, it was just a hazard in the park, just an inconvenient obstacle in there day-to-day life.
So, yeah... Hope you like!
