I guava tree, furnished gently by the sun,
in summertime this tree had become my fun,
my home, my hideaway, my brother, my all:
The rippen fruit gave me strength, gave me love.
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On the property where I grew up as a teen, there was a beautiful crab apple tree that I used to write poetry beneath. I loved the space we shared. I often drive by that old house, just so my heart can say hello to the tree that shaded me. I loved your write! PEACE
I know you from the start, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This brought a tear to my eyes. Beautifully put. I am a pagan (In my own terms) and trees are the ultimate symbol of nature in my eyes. I had a beautiful house that my children grew up in and I planted a cherry blossom 20 yrs ago as a young mum with a white boxer dog who tried to eat that tiny twig I first planted. When I left that house 2 yrs ago I never shed one tear over the house but that tree symbolised my family and shared so many beautiful memories (sitting silent in the back ground of many family photos. Pink and pretty a couple of months a year. Your poem. I love how it was written and the style you chose (the last line of each stanza seeming so wane filled.) not doggedly following a pattern (just like a tree)