That Ponderosa Tree

by xoxShorteexox   Jan 22, 2012


Walking through the forest with glee
with memories floating back to me of
the last time I walked this way; racing on
ahead to the large Ponderosa laying on its
side in hopes to be the first to climb.

My lips curl into a friendly smile at the scene
playing clearly before my eyes, little hands
gripping the scarred bark and small feet sliding on
the dirt emcompassing the maze of roots;
I laugh about how it must have been a sight to see.

The thought of being eight and feeling so free
seems to spark a flare deep within me that
only nature seems to set loose with its own
loving hand where the barbwire always comes
to an end and the real beauty begins.

As I reach that big Ponderosa tree, I take it all in,
it hasn't changed at all since that day, with a little bit of sap that
got a hold of me; I climb this tree and now being close to
twenty-one, it doesn't seem as scary, but I run my fingers
against the hole covered bark and the memory takes me once more.

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Latest Comments

  • 11 years ago

    by AJ

    This piece is quite a nice read. Simple, but in this case simple is perfect. Your bits of description, such as the scarred bark and maze of roots create a vivid image of your scene..

    Well done!
    -AJ

  • 12 years ago

    by average thoughts

    The thought of being eight and feeling so free
    seems to spark a flare deep within me that
    only nature seems to set loose with its own
    loving hand where the barbwire always comes
    to an end and the real beauty begins..

    This is my most fav part..
    We al hv to move, bt those precious memories always rest thr ..
    It js need a spark..smthing remarkable frm our past..
    I lvd ur ponderosa tree

  • 12 years ago

    by The Poet Behind The Poems

    The images you set here were amazing i loved the choice of words very well written

  • 12 years ago

    by John Dlyan Boone BABY

    It is a beauty good job well done

  • 12 years ago

    by Exostosis

    The piece speaks about childhood memories and about growing up while trying to not lose the innocence at heart. The flow was good. The context is heart warming.

    And there are hints, about the author reverting to childhood memories, to suppress the current days of dark clouds. Or may be in the days of success holding onto the memories about hanging around a tree trying to cherish the good times that have designed a satisfactory present.

    In any other words, simply beautiful.

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