PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Ageold trees with mangled limbs
left by sidewalks and roads
still austere, each standing there -
the strain of each year showed.

 I met one on Third and West -
a poplar tree whose name was Aspen
an old, tall, gangly sort of fellow
but neatly-kept and friendly.

He spent his younger years
with meadow voles and woodpeckers -
but nowadays just an occasional squirrel.

And he told me with a tone of knowingness,
that there was much to learn in life
if you had learned to listen.

Near the old farmhouse lived one more, named Jack,
a quiet thinker and stargazed lover
his life aged well, his mind content
even if his frame was slightly bent.
He would often tell me of his wife
whom he met so many years ago.

Virginia was her name,
and the days they spent together were so...
evergreen.

The ancients of a bygone era
each with a new story to tell
from days that were dearer...
ageold trees with mangled limbs.