An outing as a child,
I sat down by this tree.
My mother laughed like a chime,
My father tickled me.
My first kiss in front of it,
Amidst the teenage cat calls.
And every Sunday I sat,
An escapee from Church Halls.
My first date was sweet,
Right by this tree,
We carved our names in a heart,
One time, two times, three.
I brought my child here,
A day and half after birth,
My child smiled at me,
My personal sun on Earth.
The tree was hit by lightening,
Neither of us ripe in years.
I am 80, the tree is dead.
My tree is littered with beers.
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Ok. This poem was crap. But I wanted to write about something not death/war/suicidal thoughts.
V O T E
F A N
C O M M E N T
I LOVE YOU ♡
- Nezza
Adios Amigos ;)
