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 a bench under 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.

I was there today at our oak on the rise

I remembered 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

I have to admit I’m carrying a grudge

But I’ll always remember the oak and the bench

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