THE TREE


 
In the park in my hometown
Was an old and wonderful tree
Grown by God for a special purpose
Which was for kids like me.

The branches were big yet low enough
So upon them we could swing.
And those of us who dared a lot
At the very top would cling.

It never minded, this old tree
That we scuffed it's bark
As we climbed and jumped and even fell
While we had our lark.

A friend it was to all of us
And our place of meeting.
Yes, we could hardly wait to see
It's limbs spread out in greeting.

Often, after dark, we would play
Around this wonderful tree.
For it was the greatest place to shout
"Olly, Olly, Oxen.  All in Free!

In the winter, I'm ashamed to say
We forgot our friend, the tree.
For we had other places for our games
Which in the cold we played with glee.
 
But some of us who passed it by
On a cold and snowy day
Thought we could hear a whispered plea
"Please, hurry back and play".

The tree long ago died from some disease
At least that was what I was told.
But I really think the reason was
It missed the young friends of old.



Copyright (c) 1997 James Sage