The Tree

The tree stood

silent in the square,

This sentinel, sombre,

overlooked

by the ravages of time:

'Til yesterday, but never once

showed we a care,

What vain memorial,

this short passage –

of rhyme (and time).

Two men came,

took but one day,

If it had a heart,

well they it stole.

Now on the ground,

this tree (they didst slay),

Remembers not

what it might have told:

Of lovers

who beneath its sheltering cloak

Spent well many hours

before their ways dispersing

Here their mightiest

flames of passion

didst stoke,

And such secrets divulge;

was this tree then listening ?

To traitors who

plotted to topple the king;

To soldiers who

came and trampled the land;

Simple girls leaving,

 ne'er returning;

And a duel fought for ?

only this tree recalled,

whose hand.

But enough;

these deeds

must take their place,

And join their actors,

 long since died,

'Til tomorrow

we'll not their journeys trace,

This tree -

remembers not today.

(sitting on a favourite tree, -felled!)

Charles Loft.