Time's Tale

At four he gazed at the backyard oak.
His dream goddess.
By five, he claimed her lower branches;
at six, he breached her leafy summit
ignoring his mother's pleas

'Too much to do
...not enough time,'
his reply.

Wiping dishwater hands,
she stepped inside,
finding his answer odd.

At age seventeen, he died.

Pris Campbell
(c)1/14/2002

For Mike 1954-1971

Photograph: Oak Tree by Ansel Adams
Music: Against The Wind

Return to Homepage
Return to Poetry Index