The Old Plum Tree Poem by Christopher Tye

The Old Plum Tree

When I was young your tenacious grip on life always amazed me,
You had looked so fragile even back then,
But each spring your branches erupted with the buds of new life.

In the autumn your plums were always the best anyone could dream of tasting,
In winter you always looked so ghostly in the morning mists,
Your hollow trunk was deeply fissured with holes,
So deep were they that I could peer into your heart.

My grandfather had tried to shore-up your decaying trunk with cement,
That probably helped you to bare the weight of the winter snows,
I wonder how cold your hollow shell got in those bleak winters.

Little did I know that last autumn would be your last,
As I tasted your fruits again,
The next spring no new life emerged from your branches.

Your roots sent up a single sucker near the end of your life,
It was almost like you knew that you were running out of time,
As if your seasons in the sun were nearly gone,
That one sucker grew and turned into a fine Damson tree.

Your decaying remains were a sorrowful sight,
A sad reminder of past glories,
Your end had come so soon after my grandfather had died.

The damson tree that you gave life to still grows,
As strongly as you once did,
It has given rise to several more generations of life,
Each year you clan increases by one or two more suckers.

Next to where you stood your old neighbours still grow,
Silently mourning your passing,
In your place stands a young pear tree,
In years to come it might grow great like you were once.

So who will remember you after I have died?
For I ‘am the last human to mourn you passing,
I hope in death I will be reunited with my grandfather and you.

By Christopher Tye