About a sycamore I loved as a child


My Friend The Sycamore



Long ago I left you in tears.
The house was tumbled down.
The yard became overgrown.

Even though I left that cherished
childhood place, it remained
lodged in my heart.

You were still there my friend.
To anchor me so that my heart
would never leave.

You were my security as a child.
Through a childhood sometimes
racked by turmoil.

You were the only constant in my
childhood.
Through a childhood always pursued
by change.

The only steady foundation to place
my childhood dreams upon.

Living, never dying.
You withstood time, surviving the
change of a world around you.

Your lofty branches soared to the sky,
inspiring my imagination.

Your form was very beautiful in my eyes.
Instilling a love for nature that will never
be forsaken.

Nature's testimony of your grand life.
Made an impression on my mind and
heart, inspiring me to become a poet.

I went by that childhood place.
You were chopped down, reduced to a
lowly stump.
A fence erected by your once proud
life.

The people who destroyed you were
ignorant of the special place you held in
my heart.

I cry for you now my friend.
When you were still there my heart
belonged somewhere.

A changing world no longer held back
your death as I hoped.

The hope that you would survive time
past my prime has been broken.

The constant of my childhood is lost
forever.

Only this hope remains of your past life.
The inspiration and dreams of my heart
that you rooted within me.
Will never be conquered by your
destruction.




Poetry by Amy Buchanan
Read 760 times
Written on 2007-04-04 at 13:03

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normalil
I just read this again Amy, and got even more out of it. It's a wonderful tribute to nature. Such a sad ending.
2011-08-12


normalil
There is an old saying somewhere, that any village with even just one tree is worthy of vereration. I love the way that you have nature in your life, and also what the old Sycamore meant to you.
If it is any consolation to you, there is a Sycamore in my garden with a hole in its trunk. The hole contains a robins nest with 6eggs, and if you want to read about it, it's all in my poem, "A Precious Secret."
2007-05-13


Zoya Zaidi
I remember the mango trees I use to climb in our garden in childhood; I knew every bend of every branch, and the strength of every branch, which one could withstand my weight, and which one would give way under my weight. Yes we were great childhood friends... And when my mother, recently, got one of them cut, because it was old and hollowed in the trunk, I actually fought with her...

(((Hugs for the love of nature, you express in this poem, Amy)))
Love, Zoya
2007-04-05



I cried too, while reading this...the liaison between a person and a tree can be stronger than we imagine...we just never (or we do, but too rarely) allow ourselves to think of a tree as of another worthy of our love being on this earth...and still a tree can be among the most trustworthy living things on this planet...
Lilly xxx
2007-04-04