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 the 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.

©Niall OConnor    2013