The Old Man and the Tree
I came across a frail old man,
Who was sitting by a tree.
He seemed quite untroubled,
And said "hello" to me.
"Have you sat here long" I asked
He said, "eighty years young lad"
I said "have you really"
(Thinking was this old man mad.)
"This fine tree," he said,
"It's my oldest friend
This is where I come to think,
Or have some time to spend."
"Many, many years ago
My father grew this tree.
So all throughout my life
It has grown with me".
"It grew as I went to war,
Young, and full of life.
It was a favourite place
For me and my wife."
"It has watched my children
Become adults, and all leave.
It has seen my losses,
So it has seen me grieve."
"It has seen me as a boy
And it sees me now.
This will be my resting place,
Beneath my favourite bough."
As I took my leave of him
And I bade him goodbye,
I could barely speak
For tears, welled in my eyes.
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