A collection of random writings, scrapped story parts, and old oneshots
Disclaimers: Image credit goes to the Artists/Photographers unless I specifically state they're mine.
Transformers belongs to Hasbro.
Pokemon belongs to Nintendo.
(Highest rank:...
(This is a poem about the true story of Our Willow Tree, that grew in the backyard all the way by my old home. The whole poem describes my vivid childhood memories of that tree. The photo above is of the actual Willow Tree. I hope you enjoy!) (Written in late 2021)
Our Willow Tree
Many years ago, I remember our Willow Tree. And when the wind would blow, the sound would fill me with glee.
Many years it had stood, the tallest in the neighborhood. Sometimes we would play games, and be Indians wild and free, giving ourselves fun names.
I would pluck off the leaves, and imagine it was feathers. Squirrels those little thieves, taking seeds in any weather. From the little red birdfeeder, hanging on the trunk.
One spring a Woodpecker came, And made a hole on a branch. The sound from his little claim, and the wood dust avalanche. I heard and saw it every day.
Then an evil Starling arrived, wanting the other's hideaway. The poor pecker barely survived, that violent assault on the grass.
When it was over he left, and the Starling made home, from his greatest theft.
Under the eaves I would roam, and years the huge tree grew old. A disease slowly ebbed life away, In summer, fall, then winter cold. "It needs to be removed." said they,
and one last Christmas it stood. We grew sad when came that day, as they sawed the wood. Empty it felt without our tree,
Our dear Willow tree.
A little red Maple now grows, marking the place of its grave. And the memory we enclose, I still like to save.
When I think of Our Willow Tree.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
If you look closely you can see the woodpecker hole on the left semi dead branch, and the red birdfeeder.
