Beneath this old Carved Tree

beneath this old carved tree, steven humphreys, poem, poetry, prose

When you used to search for me,

you found me

by lake forgiveness

beneath this old carved tree.

You always knew where to find me,

when we spoke those sorrowful words.

Our memory dances

by those yellow

flowers growing

on the side of

that hill by the road.

That wave of golden flowers;

we used to stroll through and pluck.

Things around us grow dim casting long shadows,


ebbing choppy water we waded through

knee-high in years past

slaps upon the shore.

Dry burnt embers

blow freely in the wind

dancing like fireflies

atop this bonfire burning

easing the swift coldness coming on.

Our thoughts flutter in the breeze

like scattered leaves, and

the whites of our eyes

look to a

near evening sky

filled with lights glimmering.

as I button my night jacket,

I draw yours over your shoulders



the vastness of an unfolding blanket of universe

exposes a partial moon


through the billowy clouds

which sprinkles a fine mist

we feel softly landing on our faces

like little bristles.

We are in jocund company,

void of all men.

the bird chirps and whatever

else moves in the brush over there


we sit

leaning against each other



words of heart


a much indifferent umbrella of night.


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