Another year passes

The old man is sitting in his armchair,
Looking out of the window,
Watching the birds,
As they are flying from tree to tree,
He remembers all the winters,
He spent in his garden when he was young,
Planting those same trees,
When they were just little saplings,
He remembers all the years that,
Those trees have been growing and slowly maturing,
He knows long after he has celebrated his final birthday,
All the trees in his beloved garden,
Will still be growing,
And still be giving food and shelter to the birds,
He wonders if in sixty years from now,
Will his grandchildren be doing the same.

By Christopher Tye