THE OAK ON THE HILL

 I'm always fascinated with the way trees bend to the wind -- sometimes gently to summer breezes, sometimes tossing in spirited March bursts of energy.  My photo is of an old oak on a hill in Salem, Oregon, taken by my daughter.  Something about the bench inspired my poem...and maybe it was an impish March wind that inspired the last line! Submitted to dVerse 3/1/22.

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THE OAK ON THE HILL

I was there today at our oak on the rise

I remember your tears as we said our goodbyes

I vowed to be back as soon as I could

Life got in the way, it took longer than it should

But I never forgot you and your sweet smile

Somehow I expected you’d be  there all the while

Now my friends tell me I was gone too long

That our love turned into a boring old song

They say another fellow has caught your eye 

Seems I’m the only one wondering why

Some say I’m bitter and have no right to judge

Things are not what they seem and I carry a grudge

But I’ll always remember the oak and the bench

And wish you’d waited……your heartless wench!