What do you think this poem is about?

The girl I used to be

My tree will know it all
the tree of my childhood
with the endless branches
and the many whispers

My tree remembers
the girl with the wind in her hair
the girl with the crazy laughter
the girl with the fear of living
the girl I used to be
before

In my tree
everything I want to be
will be

In my tree
I can see the world
but no one can see me

My tree remembers me
the girl I used to be
before

Submitted: Wednesday, March 02, 2005


Read poems about / on: girl, crazy, tree, childhood, laughter, hair, fear, wind, world, remember

Comments about this poem (The girl I used to be by Pia Andersson )

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  • Chris G. Vaillancourt (11/8/2009 4:25:00 PM)

    Sensational (in all senses of the word)

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  • Lime and Tequila with a Splash of Pineapple (1/20/2008 11:35:00 PM)

    Poignant, a little sad, made me think about the girl I used to be.

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  • Rudy Hossam (12/30/2007 2:46:00 AM)

    outstanding poem i love it so much

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  • Emancipation Planz (10/14/2007 1:47:00 AM)

    This poem is a photosynthesis delight... sugar, sweetness and light.. thank you... One Peace at a Time, Deana

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  • Ana Monnar (9/9/2007 3:17:00 PM)

    Memories bring out great thoughts. Well penned.

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  • Broken Peaces (8/23/2007 1:43:00 PM)

    Beautifully written i have read it six times and am smitten lol Chris

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  • Dr.subhendu Kar (8/5/2007 2:16:00 PM)

    The girl with the wind in her hair............! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! beautiful one...the childhood memory is just soothing breeze of evening touching the hair...most reveling. great work.well penned

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  • Cyclopseven R (8/3/2007 11:07:00 AM)

    The tree that carries the memory stored in nature's diary remembers you too. One with nature we will be, if only we choose to become. The depth of the expression is clearly laid.

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  • Rangarajan Kazhiyur Mannar (7/16/2007 2:11:00 AM)

    A very nice and unique one. The tree of reminiscences is indeed ever cherished. Well done and thanks for sharing it.

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  • Will Barber (7/14/2007 4:53:00 AM)

    A poignant evocation of the past, echoed in the present. This is a very praisworthy poem - the image of the tree pervades the piece with a sense of continuity, however far the past recedes.

    None of us wake to be the same person, each morning. Memory stitches the days together - but tomorrow's memories must stitch the days anew. - Will

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Read all 24 comments »

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