The Old Oak Poem by joy lemoine Powell

Stood, where it had been planted many generations ago,
Its huge trunk burdened by the weight of the heavy limbs
Creaking when the wind would blow …
Flowers had adopted a place beneath its shade their colors
Enhancing the boldness of the slate grey bark
Surrounding in endless tall green blades …
As children we played in this tree swinging off its branches
Falling to the carpet of grass below …
It had been through a lot this old oak
Tears of joy and sadness
Left its mark embedded on its trunk …
Names of some …
That had been scratched through
Forever forgotten…
Yet it stands strong
Its beauty untarnished …
By memories that have soaked into its life
And for the memories to come…
From the children now staking it as their own…