The Old Walnut Tree

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.

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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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