Peter Russell

(1921-2003 / Bristol)

Sycamore - Poem by Peter Russell

The wretched little sycamore tree outside our house
Never thrived; but the lime-trees lining the rest of the road

We never liked that little tree,
Scrawny and twisted like a malformed knee
The limes dropped drowsy scents
On to the dusty pavements in summer,
But when I left

It was the scraggy bloomless tree,
Odourless, haunted me -

Brought back the thought of your voice,
Of your light summery touch, and your scent…

I have forgotten the sickly limes!

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 20, 2014

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