Beneath the sugarberry tree,
I dreamed on summer days
of all the possibilities
that startle and amaze.
And all was quite conceivable
when I was very young,
peace and love and brotherhood
and songs as yet unsung.
The sugarberry tree came down
one evening in a blow
like men who fall before their time
before their dreams can grow.
And that's the way it often goes
with men and hope and time.
They fade away yet unfulfilled
before they reach their prime.
Fascinating poem. I like it a lot. Never heard of a sugarberry tree before, but I do like sugar, berries, and trees! Good work.
Sugarberry is another name for hackberry. Thanks for reading and rating my poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sigh..... I don't like to see trees or men cut down in their prime. What a loss. Again, the poem, with its simple rhyme scheme reads quite liktingly, it's sways, like the trees. Wistful. Melancholy. Thanks.
Thanks again. I am well past my prime so don't worry. I once said my poems are like my children, I love all of them but some are better than others. I like this particular poem a lot because it based on memories and experiences.