Member-only story
My Sycamore Tree
I sit beneath my grand sycamore tree
Her majestic arms encircling me
She holds me close yet sets me free
While I sit upon her root shaped chair
We share lovely stories and sing happy tunes
The fragrance of spring swirls ‘neath her strong bows
A breath of tulips, buttercups and lilies
I lay on the blankets of soft meadow grasses
A warm summer breeze brushes my skin
My sycamore she sings to me
Melodies of love and serenity
She sees me for just what I am
For what I could be, not what I once was
She accepts me in spite of my many follies
My lady, she wonders why waste my time?
What beauty I see in my sycamore tree?
Ax in her hand, she asks me to move
So she can cut down and remove it from view
A fist to the air, she makes such a scene
She curses the tree for noticing me
For treating me kindly and holding me close
I wish she would see the value in me
To see and to hold me, to want all of me
That’s all I ask, to…
