Mr Oak Tree

Mr Oak Tree

There's an old oak tree
In the Bluebell Woods
Where the Sparrow and Wagtail play.
He's seen many lovers
carve their names in his knots
So those names would live longer than they.
He flowers in Spring.
Then in Summer time
His acorns drop down to the floor
And squirrels collect as they forrige around.
Whilst the Woodpecker peeps through his door.
If the Oak Tree could talk
Would he whisper the tale
Of some thieves hiding out in the wood?
Or would he deny
That ever he saw
The man they once named Robin Hood?
I heard that he lived
Through the madness of war
And that many sort refuge within.
From soldiers with orders
To shoot and to slay
Under skies deep and blackened with sin.
Did Mr Oak Tree ever watch as a Wolf
Tracked a girl in a Red Riding Hood?
Or even the site of two siblings a-fright
And a witch with house made of food?
Did three little pigs ever wonder his way
Searching for twigs, bricks and hay?
Did they stop for a while
In the shelter of him,
In the heat of a hot summer day?
In the cold winter months
Did the frost bite him hard?
Was he refuge for Badgers and fowl?
Did the little mice hide
Huddled close to feel warm
In the watch of a large Tawny Owl?
As for me, I am old.
You will live beyond me.
But I hope you will sometimes recall
A small scruffy boy
Who would climb in your arms
Safe and sure that he never could fall.

Written by Dov Citron on 08/01/19
© January 2019 Dov Citron

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Oldage, elderly, Knights, medieval, historic, fairytale, foreveryoung, dreams

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