David J. Delaney
OLD MAN WILLOW TREE
I watch young children running free
then climbing through a willow tree
and noisy laughter echoes loud
while long green tentacles enshroud.
Their joy then makes me reminisce
back to a time I fondly miss
a place that’s mostly thick and green,
a place where I could not be seen.
Just down the road not far from home
is where I’d like to go alone
and meet a friend that I knew there
a friend with long and thick green hair.
I’d weave my way in through the vines
until inside his warm confines,
yes old man willow was my friend
and on his branches I’d ascend.
Cocooned within his foliage thick
away from drab arithmetic,
away from teachers and the grind,
a world I could leave far behind.
Within this labyrinth of limbs,
complete with many Tarzan swings,
I’d stay for hours by myself
pretending sometimes I’m an elf.
Or be like brave old Jungle Jim
while standing high upon a limb:
A pirate on the ocean blue
who hunts for treasure with his crew.
Then sometimes a French musketeer
who’s dashing and so cavalier,
or Zorro would at times appear
and joust or laugh and often cheer.
I’d smell the freshness of the grass
a feeling not much could surpass
except a shower of some rain
where I’d stay dry beneath his frame.
Great times were had but as I grew
my visits, now became a few,
for life would change in many ways
all through those lazy summer days.
My childhood haven has long gone
but memories they linger on
of hugging old man willow tree
and how he always sheltered me
©Copyright September 3, 2011 by David J. Delaney