The Old Tree

This chained lune was written for Poefusion’s Monday Mural, based on the above image. Enjoy.

The old tree was dying,
her wood drying
as ancient life left her.

The tree has been shelter
for the sculptor –
a cradle of memories.

He remembered afternoons of resting
in her arms,
watching skyward in her branches –

he could not let her go.
He gently carved
a hand from her wood.

He rests in her palm,
watching past branches
which frame the starlit sky;

she will not die now.
In her branches,
he’s a little boy again.

Written 6/29/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Stumble It!

Stumble It!


About ravenswingpoetry

I am a 38 year old writer from Columbus, OH and the creator of Raven's Wing Poetry. I am a poet, seeker, fellow traveler, and autistic.
This entry was posted in Chained lune, Lune, People, Poems, Prompt Poems and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to The Old Tree

  1. You truly do lunes so well. I like the chained ones!

    from the palms of my hand, you stand tall

  2. Thank you, gautami. 🙂


  3. San says:

    wow! that is such stunning imagery. i loved it. 🙂

  4. Thank you, San. 🙂


  5. You have given breath to an old childhood memory of mine with your poem. I loved climbing trees as a child and sitting in the branches or hanging upside down from one. I love the imagery you have portrayed here. Nice job. Have a nice day.

  6. Thank you, Michelle. 🙂


  7. Noah says:

    This is amazing.

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