Two couples pass along the sidewalk.
They've aged with the once sapling trees
whose branches now reach to shake hands across the street.
Stooped men clasp gently
under the boughs.
Dainty ladies wave
as the breeze ruffles leaves.
What burdens bent their backs?
How far did the wind once carry them?
The trees have seen.
They've aged with the once sapling trees
whose branches now reach to shake hands across the street.
Stooped men clasp gently
under the boughs.
Dainty ladies wave
as the breeze ruffles leaves.
What burdens bent their backs?
How far did the wind once carry them?
The trees have seen.
34 comments:
ooohhhhhhh nice.
that's very good!
coming from 55 FFF bloghoppin' and so glad to find this great blog!
now a happy follower!
happy weekends
check out my my 55 FFF
xoxo
fickle
Good one, Lime; very nice. . .
This is lovely, Lime.
Still don't understand what the 55 means.
Just two oldies blowing in the wind like leaves.....
That was fabulous. I am not sure if you are speaking of two old people shuffling down the sidewalk, or a couple of weathered leaves....
How far did the wind once carry them?
Dang Lime, fabulous.
Love that. And somehow it reminded me of a John Prine Song:
"Ya' know that old trees just grow stronger,
And old rivers grow wilder ev'ry day.
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello."
So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes,
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello.""
jazzm fickle, craig, furious, thank you all!
moannie, the 55 means the piece has to be written in exactly 55 words.
susie, ya know, i wrote it as people shuffling under the trees (and dang..shuffling..i was looking for a word i couldn't find and you just gave it to me!) though i kinda like that you could read it either way.
Lovely. Yes, the trees have seen. I always enjoy your 55, Michelle.
secret agent woman, i've never heard that song but i love those lyrics dearly now that you've shared them.. thanks!
san, thank you, so nice to see you here :)
Perfect poetry for pondering.
This is wonderful!
Very nice, especially the last 3 lines. Love it.
That's how it is.
Only the trees can see it,
while humans do not accept
the change from young to old.
I'm 65 in some short weeks, so
I've learned and accepted a lot.
Thanks for your comment to my daughters wonderful son.
We will visit all of them in Germany during Easter. It's just about 2 hrs flight away.
hugs
T
Norway
btw. Pls forgive me my absence as commentator to you wonderful blog since too long.
It's about job, too late in the evenings, and Kittens, which all have new homes. Good homes in fact.
We were very restricted and refused even some as the kittens new owners.
Surrounded by what has passed before them, the trees, their lives, how far indeed. Nicely done.
Visit my 55: My Invisibility
Gosh! That is fabulous poetry. The imagery is mind blogging! Excellent!
A physically well-constructed poem Lime. It looks like the tree, as I am sure it was meant to? - Dave
Trees are mystical things in my mind. I love trees.
Beautiful. Trees have many stories to share. Thanks for telling this one.
They were probably stopping to pass off a bag of weed.
Congrats on POTW from Hilary - I can see why she gave you the honor. This was sweetly brilliant.
Thanks for sharing it.
Lovely poem - so loving!
Yes the trees see everything and yet they continue to stretch for the sky! Reaching for those stars. I loved this poem! Thanks. Congrats on your POTW!
Hugs
SueAnn
Congratulations for winning Hilary's award today Michelle! - Dave
Just back to say congratulations... well done. :-)
Word veri: humminit. Well, why not?
Love this,
our street has middle-ages trees at this point,
love the imagery.
congrats on the POTW award
as someone who thinks trees hold great spirit and love I think this is absolutely lovely
brava on POTW
What a pretty composition, and it conjures a visual image very easily. Trees are so fascinating, aren't they? I always want to be able to interview the trees outside of old homes. All that they've stood witness to, all the stories they would absorb.
One day, out in our old backyard, my husband looked down at the foot path and saw that a tiny maple had started to grow. Just taken root there on the path, only two inches tall. Knowing that it would trampled there, my husband transplanted it to the front yard. We still own that house, and five years later the little maple is still growing slowly, not a couple of feet tall.
I always tease my husband -- because the concept of tree stories does fascinate me -- that the trees first memory has to do with the hairy god of Irish descent, scooping it up and carrying it away.
Congratulations on the post of the week mention over at Hilary's blog :-)
Brava! And Congrats on POTW from Hilary
This was so beautiful. You made me pause. Thank you. Lovely.
your poem is wonderful
the trees surely see
thank you~
congrats on your POTW from Hilary!
How wonderful. The trees have been watching over them. The trees know. What a comforting thought. I love trees. Great 55! /Jo.
Here from Hilary's. Congratulations on your POTW--this is a lovely poem (and weirdly, I particularly like the shape of it; it fits). Well done!
I really like this -- a very touching word picture.
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