The whistle

My grandad used to whistle to his heart content .. any song anywhere.

The whistle in the trees the hustle of the leaves,
The spring is setting in the cool blowing breeze,
As I walk through the woods I feel it's alive,
I know somewhere somehow your walking by my side.

Though I may not see you I imagine you there,
Are you the squirrel in the tree or the birds in flight
Above me?

The stream flows effortlessly over the rocks
And for a moment all my hurts forgot.

I imagine you here whistling as you walk,
Taking it all in the pure beauty of it all.
The tall trees of the forest and all that's alive
Makes me sit and wonder why?

Why do things come to an end?
Why in life do we all pretend, pretend that loss
Won't affect us in the end.

Where do you go to feel close to the ones in life you've lost,
Do you have a special place to remember the life they've
Now not got.

For me there's no better place than here under the big swaying
Trees,
Listening to my grandad whistling in the breeze.

Reviews

[HeartInTheDark]

a great poem about the memories of those in our life who mean the world to us, who are no longer in our lives. its a really nice poem a great piece, keep up the great work

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

So many images in the text. Wonderful observation of the world around you. A fine tribute to your Grandad.