beneath the old hickory
at the top of the hill
you swore to love me
till the stars stood still
we lay on our blanket
looking down on the lake
to think of it now
still brings a heartache
we thought the future
was sunshine in May
we could never believe
in any dark day
the old hickory tree
has succumbed to the fire
that's the way it can go
with old trees and desire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem