This is from a blog entry I made on August 3, 2005. I thought it should stand as a poem all on its own.
Marie and the Tree
Little Marie
Stared at the tree
And said to herself
“How happy I’ll be
If only I could
Climb up this tree”
The tree it did sway
In a precarious way
But still Marie knew
It would make her day
If she just would climb
And get on her way
For standing there put
Entrenched in a rut
Life would stay dull
Like ashes and soot
If only Marie
Could just move one foot
She thought she believed
In the green of the leaves
The sense of excitement
The tree’s majesty
But still she was scared
How could this be?
The tree was inviting
Charming, delighting
With branches so bold
And a trunk that was mighty
The was no real cause
For her to be frightened
But yet she remained
Frozen in pain
And sorrow and worry
Of the wind and the rain
Not knowing if she
Could feel safe again
So Marie stood and stared
With a list of her cares
Unable to fix them
Yet still quite aware
That resolve them she would
If only she’d dare
Dare to be strong
Dare to hold on
To be in the place
Where she belonged
To feel the security
For which she longed
But the days would just pass
Some slow and some fast
Weeks and then months
What a pity, alas
That Marie did not move
From her spot in the grass
Not sure what to say
Of what happened that day
When Marie and the tree
Did part their ways
Marie never again able
To run out and play
As for the tree
We’ll just have to see
It eventually stopped growing
But how could that be?
For how could it grow
Without little Marie?
