NaPoWriMo April Month of Poetry Apr 9

I stand on hill with centuries to remember
All that I’ve have seen of pain and wonder
Sadness so deep boughs sagged to cellar
Spirits lifted high that branches touched the stars

Back to Back men safely rested weary hearts
Lovers left their mark still etched in my bark
In the branches birds made homes on high
With each passing year new generations fly

Roots growing deep my soul touched  all the world
Gaia’s spirit blossomed while life around me swirled
Then cast out like orphaned child  rock alone to cling
When all had fled only death’s swinging scythe did sing

Once a grove with brothers near is now reduced to few
And all too soon I will be next to say adieu
But not for me to dwell on what and when
I stand on hill and embrace my memories once again

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