This Old Tree-Lgt
I have lived an incredible two and a half centuries,
both humbled and awed of celebration and tragedies.
My seed having fed multitudes of hungry squirrels;
my gifts in return for my place in this world.
A young Indian mother squatted and leaned against me.
I absorbed her tears of labor as she birthed her first baby.
Texas Rangers hung three brutal murderers from my limbs.
I held the rope steadfast, assuring payment of their sins.
A happier task given, holding a young girls swing;
endeared by her laughter and sweet songs she would sing.
My tattoo, the initials of lovers carved in my bark;
their passions given in to neath my cover after dark.
My last friend succumed to illness, and by six he was carried
to the comfort of my shade, where he chose to be buried.
I'll join him this day, for on the horizon I see
smoke and fire; a good death, for this old tree.
Contest: Let's Get Technical (show me your best)
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014
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