Dad's Pine Trees
You carried the young pine trees from our old cottage by the lake
To our new cottage on the hill, planting them carefully, lovingly
When young and bent crooked; you guided them with a little stake
Over the years, with the sun and the rain, they grew
Into mature, sturdy pines, so strong and so beautiful
They were each free to branch out in any direction
For you planted them wisely, far apart to have room to grow
They shed their needles, sometimes overwhelmingly sad
Their unmistaken fragrance carried on the wings
Of the slightest breeze that wafts gently through the air
How it reminds me of you, and I feel like you are here
Whispering that you love us and have never left us
Then, I shall whisper softly that I will never forget you, Dad
Copyright © Cynthia Ondrich | Year Posted 2009
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