return to yew tree

[johnwatts05]

Return to Yew tree



Memories rise, part distant shades,

part clear as if from yesterday

as I walk from town at evening time.

Here is my to-long forsaken world;

a rambling grey green hanging mantle.

I reach a tunnel in the heavy trees,

that once plucked at harvest burdens

of great wagons swaying through.



Our fortress oak, still guarding all,

now briar besieged on every side,

standing, massive, gnarled, immortal;

just two tree house boards remain.

The hut and forest path are gone

now tarmac leads the traveller on.

A neat Yew hedge frames the gate

where once cruel arced tangles fell,

guarding close our world beyond.



I step through to the gravel path,

and greet the giant cloaking limes,

remembering in the earliest days

swinging upon their hanging arms.

There lies beyond the garden lawn

the summer house we toiled to build;

long days spent in easy banter,

living for life and making plans.



I pass the cricket pitch we laid.

Ahead the porch lantern gleams,

a herald star, though badly cracked

by my high driven careless stroke.

Now the creeper, glinting bronze

invades to frame our tall window,

like all with curtains firmly drawn.

Here we fought, minds interlaced,

intent across the chequered board.



So many happy ghosts linger here,

that after all is summed and sealed,

new youth and spirit may discover.

If not my words may raise a smile,

from anyone who stays a while,

or in the hearts of those we knew



J Watts. March 16