Old Oak Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Like an old oak
I go down
My boughs
Bend
And
together
towards earth
descend.

Age
Brought me
Here
Age
Brought me to this
My voice
That once was loud and
Clear
Filled the buildings
Country streets
Where it went
Now
As the dimmest light
Drawls syllables.

Trees
Have seed in them
And I
Had seed unutilized
And now
That I regret
Those days
My seed is sere;
My seed be old.

Like as to as
Old house
Like as to a rusting
Bell
Like to a flower in
Its prime
That bends and fades
Like a fair maid
That maddened all
With beauty
Now
An old grey woman-pilgrim
Walking-stick.

Like an old oak
I go down
My boughs
Bend
And
together
towards earth
descend.