Trees

Old planted trees

lift up the memory of bended back, and distant mind;

hold high in mirrored branches,

the swirling hopes and dreams,

of those who sowed

and did not need to reap.

I trace my fingers on  messaged bark

in search of thoughts, etched carefully there

by passing winds ,and swaying sun, and find

this shy message exposed for all to see:

Remember me, where stands this tree.

Copyright rest with Niall OConnor
Illustration copyright Elida Maiques