In the front yard of my childhood home, we had a corner where our fence met the neighbor’s and growing in the viney side-garden stood a redbud. I would sit on a weathered, wooden bench beneath it and stare up through its branches. To me, the round leaves looked like lily pads upon the water of the blue sky. When we moved away, I did my best to remember every small aspect of that home, the front and back yards which I played in and ventured alone, the plants and flowers in my dad’s gardens where we would be chored to pull weeds and help him dig to plant new pansy flowers.
This poem is me taking a few moments to remember that pretty little redbud tree, which I doubt is still there but will always exist in my sweet memories.
Lithely stretching branches,
Heart shaped leaves,
Like round, veined palms,
Pressing up against the depthless skies,
As gentle as lily pads,
Resting upon the pond’s mirrored surface.
The thin limbs and body as
Still as stone,
Save for when the changing breezes
Release your swaying dance.
This poem is a touch shorter than my previous poetry posts, but I believe that makes it all the better, a small and pleasant scenery that exists for a moment. Love it or loathe it, leave feedback and like the post, share to anyone you’d like.
Thanks for reading!