What hand did plant these maple trees
And set them in a bed of stone?
Away from verdant woodland
Where their roots can't grow nor spread,
No place have they amongst this town
To dwell within a crumbling tomb,
And sentanced now to live amongst
The lowly urban dead.
What if their boughs could shade a field?
And capture morning sun with glee,
Not swamped beneath the rooftops
Where the light so rarely falls,
Confined upon this dreary street
And trapped within a solemn cage,
To gaze between the bars and see
Those gloomy red bricked walls.
Weep on, weep on your golden leaves
Which fall from high unto the ground,
And cloak the gum and litter
That has gathered through the years,
Make patterns on the pavement slabs
Bring colour to this ashen plain,
And I shall keep believing
Through the pain of autumn tears.
Nice contemplative poem over the scene quite absorbing the mind!
You are so in tune with nature and it shows so well in this poem, a very enjoyable read written in your unique way 10 Lynda xx
You have captured a well known theme here Andrew, it is a cruelty of sorts isn't it. Beautifully arranged piece and such a pleasure to read, I really enjoyed it. Thanks lots. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
Such a bittersweet poem Andrew as you always capture beauty so eloquently, even though it is under unfortunate circumstances. The rhythm and message is so strong and the last stanza is excellent. 10 love Karin
A metaphorical elegy to beauty that is forever lost on its surroundings.You are indeed a poet of quality.Encore, Andrew! Warmest regards, Sandra
Beautifully written Andrew you make me feel guilty enjoying the shade in our High Street, but imagine a town without trees to soften the hard lines. and the Maple is so lovely. Kind regards. Ann
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And I shall keep believing Through the pain of autumn tears. ..................................................... Is fine Andrew..10... Best wishes, Tsira