whose bony fingers
stretched above gloved branches,
you danced in the sunlight,
elegantly bowing
for scampering squirrels
and gifts of birdhouse rings.
Tree,
whose springtime blossoms
scattered petals
for make-believe weddings,
you caught up children
and hugged them tightly
in games of hide and seek.
Tree,
I run my fingers
along your weeping scars
where Earth's fury tore
your hand from mine.
Splintered memories,
I have less air to breath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i enjoyed this poem. Beautiful write. I have published a few poem in this site, but I was not active a long time. Please read and comment when time permits, Thanks. Sam Varghis