Why does every tree
Look so familiar to me?
As if they'd just walked past me?
As if I had heard 'them talk with me?
The banyan, older than time
Like the aged coachman, his beard covered in rime.
The olive, gnarled and huge as ever
Fruit on one bough and leaf on the other
Looks so much like my nurturing mother!
In all these eulogies I leave,
Someone familiar, a memory to believe.
The cherry, with her flowers so lush
As lovely as that maiden's blush.
The brave oak, so tall and staunch
Like those warriors marching, rough and raunch
In all these tokens I see
Someone familiar walk past me.
~ Feronia Grey
YOU ARE READING
Cottage Chronicles
PoetryLife's chronicles from love, sorrow, anger, guilt, shame, happiness buried in a poetic cipher. Would you like some words and wine, on wooden floorboards? ©️ Feronia Grey
