The blackened burl of charred remains –
stands the gnarl of great walnut tree.
Stretching his arms into the blue –
as though his very life to plead.
Covered with scars his shadow falls
upon the body of me.
Here I lay with broken dolls
of all our childhood dreams.
And so I thought a lifetime ago,
whispering, whittling, wond’ring why…
Should a tree of such earthen beauty
Ever reach the sky?
Tis not mine, Dear Walnut,
not mine to see.
But only to share my time
with thee..
So I have weathered this storm
to touch your olden scars,
To feel initials so weatherly worn,
before I chase the stars.
For once a boy envisioned thee,
taking refuge in your leaves.
Carving names of lovers seen
I thoroughly believe –
That soon my legs and arms will climb
upon your mountainous breadth
and we will remember all the times
o’er the years you and I have wept.
. . .. .... ....... .......... ............... ......................... © 2014 John Allen Richter .........................
johnallenrichter 