Poem Number 48 - The Top Of The Tree - 21/2/1984

When I look at my life: I imagine my life as a tree.

I begin at birth, as a seed,

And then the roots, spring from beneath me,

These roots represent my family.

I begin to grow like a stem,

All because of them.

One of those roots, is broken in the latter,

I think thinks reflects my real father.

Only a short while later, a new root grows,

And attached to my stem, the branches they grow.

Halfway is my life, there’s a branch that grows short,

And on the other side, a branch is still growing.

This particular branch, never stops growing,

But has small bends and curves, in the beginning.

My stem is not at all so straight, nor upright,

And there is a branch above this branch, which also growing.         

This particular branch has got numerous of small branches,

All reaching out in one direction,

With leaves as green as pastures,

Which I know is God’s recreation.

Beneath all branches I have mentioned,

One other branch is growing, directly towards the sun.

It doesn’t reach the top, but it is three-quarters of the way there.

As the rest of the tree is slightly bare.

Till I reach the top of the tree,

All of this is my present life and I!

As I cannot tell, what is ahead,

The very top, is my death.