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But What of the Trees

In this paved field
Marked by its yellow painted lines

My eyes fill with tears
As I think to other times

But what of the trees
Around which I used to play

Of captains and kings
Just dreaming the day away

On top of branches high
Pretending I could fly

Way up to the sun
Moments that could never die.

In this paved field
That I now stand I can not see

My sister with her dolls,
Mom kissing my skinned knee

Our dog chasing a squirrel
Barking in all his bliss

My dad and I playing catch
God how I miss this

My laughter blowing through
The branches with the wind

But this is no more
It has all come to an end


 

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J. Edward Moran from Ohio tells us he has always enjoyed reading and writing poetry.

That by the way is the point of this Web site.

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