An honour to a high lady
that I met going on eleven.
Looking up and a bit shady
Gramps said soft ‘she reaches heaven.’
I then slowly looked up the tree,
how tall it stood and looked so bare,
why did he call this old tree she?
My grandpa said: ‘she is so rare.’
‘Gramps, I see a stupid old tree,
a bend up trunk and swollen feet.
It hasn’t fruits, maybe she’s a he
it’s only a good place to meet.’
He touched her skin, ‘she’s a lady
we climbed her as boys without fears.
She gave shelter, her leaves jady
standing gracefully many years.
She looks so tired and also bare,
thanks to the heavy stormy winds,
that rid her of her branchy ware.
She took it all, without a wince.’
I looked at grandpa’s weary face,
his dark eyes had a flashy glow,
my curiosity needed space
somehow my words came as a flow:
‘Ah Gramps, when I grow up and all
I will be as tall and gracious,
Will you then take me to the ball?
Dance and make everyone envious?’
Grandpa’s face lit up from ear to ear,
he lifted his hat, scratched his skull,
he shook Yes, patted my hair
tapped his belly, laughed to the full.