There Lived Red Bud, A Magical Tree

"There Lived Red Bud, A Magical Tree"


Across the field
where I often sat lazily among wildflowers,
a lone red bud tree sprouted
at the edge of a forest of sycamore trees.
As majestically the sycamores stood tall,
this short red bud must have been magical.
For why would only one of its kind
grow in that particular place.
I was curious, but needed no answer,
believing it was there for me.

In a verdant dream-world jeweled with flower-colored beads,
I often times rested on the cool, soft, grassy bed,
pondering the surrounding beauty where poetic muses danced.
As I grew and Red Bud grew,
we became intimate companions. Kindred spirits.
We whispered our secrets and sang proclamations.
We wrote poetry and love stories.
Her pink flowery umbrella provided welcome shade
from warming Spring Sun.
Her Summer-green canopy offered cool comfort.
I played, napped, and drew pictures as we shared imaginations.
Wind played music on the chime I placed among the branches.
Best of all on my visits, I was allowed to sit on a sturdy limb
while reading borrowed library books.
Embraced by her loving arms and kissed by smiling leaves.

Visits with Red Bud continued through the later seasons.
She was stunning in her Autumn dress of burnt gold.
Winter Solstice sprites decorated her white cloak with crystals.

Much later in our growing years together,
a handsome boy happened by. Soon he spied me.
Resting, nestled in the crook of Her twisted limbs not far above.
Seemingly, a charmed spell was cast over the two of us.

Across a field of wildflowers, a myriad of delightful colors,
at the edge of a stand of giant sycamores,
there lived Red Bud, a magical tree.



35 line count