Childhood Tree

Childhood Tree (severe criticism is invited, welcomed, and urged) He was supposed to be there still when I returned in forty years. But a boy's home town is metamorph and tolerates old maples patiently until old homes come down; new ones rise. I'm glad I wasn't there the day he could no longer kiss the sky, but fell and shuddered on the earth, and bled in green. Though not unique, this grandiose old fellow was my first true friend; I mourned him more than any human that I knew, and though I hold no faith in spirit trees, I was aware when I came back, of his success in taking part of me along. It is forever I have lost the sostenuto of his loyallty. Forever that his thunder of lament is still--in heaven's now, perhaps, or in the glade of hell. ~