Remembering when I planted a tree in my Grandmothers garden,
so many autumns ago, and how the Oak stands tall and firm now.
Patience, sweetheart she'd say to me while I stared everyday,
in hopes to see its growth take place right before my eye's,
when even then I knew my chances of this.....be thin to none;
still we'd stare an' shout we'd seen a newborn leaf sprout out!
Now years have past, two scores and four since Grandma 'n me
went out to kneel on summer sod, and dig a hole for tomorrows,
which have come and gone, Grandma too, but whenever I lament,
I take a ride to the house that she and me created memories,
and precious Life, that until the day I too shall pass the same
I will hope for a grandchild to tell my tale that she too will honor her great-grandmother by-
doing the same with my grandchild, or me..... if I should be
still down here, looking up at the top of a Mighty Oak tree.
FjR-'2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
precious this story is and written with such love and great skill