Where The Tree Grows

About a boy

 

There was a boy with a tree tattoo

Branches spanned his muscular arms

The trunk ran up his sturdy neck

To hair the color of saffron

 

He explained to me, these were his roots

Hidden beneath his flannel shirt

All his thoughts were vibrant shoots

Down to the dirt on his leather boots

 

He carried my books one day to class

We sat and talked beneath a tree;

Ate our lunches on the grass

Studied ants building a colony

 

He was joining the army soon

And not too long he would be gone

To some desert faraway land

Where men wear silk and turbans

 

I thought it strange for him to go

He seemed so peaceful, I don't know

It was difficult to picture him

With guns and artifacts of war

 

I could envision him on a horse

On a ranch in the hills perhaps

Where boots might kick the dusty clay

I hope we meet again someday

 

 

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

A very nice poem with coherant structure and a message I could understand. We all do well to stick close to our roots. It also seems full of the innocence of youth or perhaps the fear of the loss of innocence...an interesting balance here. Keep writing. Peace and light.

[Michele Devlin]

Thanks. So nice of you to comment.

[emily.c.]

This is so sweet, I have a crush on him. It's really a nice take on roots and wings and growing up.

[Michele Devlin]

Thanks for the read. Yeah, me too. ;o) And thanks for the comment.

[Robert Haigh]

This has a quaint charm and wistful feel to it. Interesting.

[Michele Devlin]

Thanks and I appreciate you leaving a comment. :o)

[Lorry]

Beautiful and creative write. Sound like a recurring thought, to wish you meet again one day. Flows well from the start and the reason behind the tattoo is a great place to star. Really enjoyable write. Thank you for sharing.

[Michele Devlin]

Thanks so much for reading and your kind comment. I'm just learning and experimenting.

[Lorry]

Well thank you, and don't stop :)