April Poetry – As the Sun Goes Down

Tree art
As the Sun goes down
There is a connection that
began
When I looked out the window
at the top of the stairs
And saw two boys playing, 
climbing a small tree.
I used to do that
When I was their age and
size. 
I loved every minute of it.
Becoming tall enough to get
in the tree by myself.
Brave enough to climb
higher.
Daring enough to go up
further.
And then, sensible enough to
be safe.
To know when the tree was
calling.
To know that sometimes I was
the one who called to that tree.
I hid there a lot when there
were leaves.
It was an apricot tree, but
not much fruit grew on it.
Maybe because grandma had
moved a few blocks away
And the tree missed
her.  She loved apricots.
I was sad when that tree had
to be cut down,
As I am when any tree has to
be cut.
I can imagine the tree
feeling pain at being severed from its roots.
So when I looked out that
window and saw the sun
Going down like a ball of
orange fire
And the little boys were
climbing that tree,
I journeyed back to
childhood
Which seems to look better
from this vantage point…
As though I’m looking at my
own tree, 
through the window of time,

Through the glass that lets
me see the good,
The joyful,
The carefree childhood play.
When the sun goes down
The sky changes so quickly
to
Shades of gold and pink,
Purple, and deep midnight blue.
The fiery orb slips into
night,
Drawing a blanket of dark
and quiet,
Peacefulness, and love, up
over us.
I am warmed by those
memories,
Lulled to sleep
Under an apricot sky.
— Deborah L. Tisch, April 5, 2014

5 Replies to “April Poetry – As the Sun Goes Down”

  1. This one has special meaning for me, as I used to practically live in trees as a child. I loved the idea of being safe, invisible, out of reach, even though none of those things were necessarily true.

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