The Tree and Me

The Tree and Me

This is the house I grew up in
Now vacant, and lonely.
We were the one family to live here
All those years.
We were the only.

The house is rather old,
but ... so am I.
The yard is a garden of weeds,
Except for one rather old tree.

I remember planting this tree,
and that was long long ago.
I helped my father do the digging,
And so did my Uncle Joe.

I must have been six or seven or
maybe I was five?
Anyway, the tree got planted,
and it is still alive ... after these many many years.

I am happy to see this tree,
We spent time with each other.
We climbed, we dangled,
Until I heard time for dinner from Mother.

What a big tree house I did
build up in the arms.
Thinking about it now ... all those nails,
I didn't mean to cause harm.

There are many scars apparent,
Too many to explain.
But I have many scars as well,
Something in common, something the same.

There are branches battered,
and in places there is absence of green.
My branches also feel battered,
And absence of hair on my head can be seen.

I am glad I came back here today,
To see this old friend.
Weathered and worn,
But allowing me some time again.

It seems all my other friends
Have passed and are gone.
But this tree, my oldest friend,
Still standing strong.

That is why I am here today,
To visit and remember.
Remembering the journey,
January through December ... for many many years.

I wonder if my friend can remember,
And, somehow, possibly see ...
That I came back here today,
to see ... a friend ... a tree.