When the drone of the school day
Became a terrible bore,
The best of friends would hang out
For a moment under the old sycamore.
A few girls would carve initials
Of all the boys that they adore
Into the bark under the cover of dark
For a moment under the old sycamore.
The bad kids would talk about their day
And all the teachers they would ignore,
Planning their next skip or prank
For a moment under the old sycamore.
On Valentine’s Day, you could find
That there would be a candy store
For kids to buy last minute chocolates
For a moment under the old sycamore.
When waiting for a ride home,
A few kids would nap and snore
And dream of how tomorrow would be
For a moment under the old sycamore.
Sadly, it was the tree’s time to fall:
It broke, falling to the stone floor
We stood in remembrance and silence
For a moment under the old sycamore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem