04-13-2014, 08:32 PM
Old Grove
I grew before the road was made
when humans sometimes pitched a tent,
they fished awhile, laid in my shade
then packed their things, away they went.
In time a trail was carved by feet
and lakeside cabins 'neath my arms
were built for fun, a summer treat,
vacation homes instead of farms.
The path was paved atop my roots
and people came to fear my girth,
they went to stores for nuts and fruit
and thought my trunk held all my worth.
Now split and seasoned, stacked to stoke,
I'm burned for heat, gone up in smoke.
I grew before the road was made
when humans sometimes pitched a tent,
they fished awhile, laid in my shade
then packed their things, away they went.
In time a trail was carved by feet
and lakeside cabins 'neath my arms
were built for fun, a summer treat,
vacation homes instead of farms.
The path was paved atop my roots
and people came to fear my girth,
they went to stores for nuts and fruit
and thought my trunk held all my worth.
Now split and seasoned, stacked to stoke,
I'm burned for heat, gone up in smoke.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips