Poetry in Loving Memory

The Apple Tree

(Dedicated to my Grandad John)

We used to sit there, Grandad, under the old apple tree –

After lark song, and cockerel, You and me.

.

 

Gentle shafts of October light streamed through

Softening the dampness of mid-autumn dew.

Catching the spark of excitement in your eye,

 

We sat there, just so. You and I

 

A tale of your history would then take place,

Amid the trails of tangents to your favored taste.

Memoirs of secrets, bravery and pride,

 

I sat there wide-eyed, when it was you and I.

 

The bark of that tree must have also overheard

Your exclamations of confusion at a long lost word.

Layers of memory absorbed by that tree,

 

And the magic you so kindly shared with me.

 

Now your stories are complete, with so many untold.

But the bark of our tree will never grow old.

It will continue to branch, and blossom, and shine -

 

So the passions of your heart can be shared with mine.

 

We will miss you, every day, every month, every year.

But please know that for us, you can never disappear.

We honour and love the time that you spent.

Its your gift to us, the life you have lent.

So now when I sit underneath that apple tree

I think of the tales you once told to me.

We cannot prevent grief, nor make this time fly,

 

But we can lean against the trunk. Your stories and I.

Davis, V.L. (March 2009) 

*Copyright of Verity Louise Davis