Tree - A poem from my Dad

I'm going for a walk to see the tree, there’s something about it, it has a hold on me.

From far away I can see, drawn to it like a member of the family. How old I do not know, time has let this tree grow. Planted by who we will never know from small acorns mighty oaks grow.

I stopped to see its marvel, limbs stretching upwards to the sky whilst cyclist, dog walkers and strangers pass it by.

In the summer it comes to my aid, ice cream and lemonade, rest and recuperation in its shade.

As I look across the bay, I watched the boats and ferries sail away. I cannot go I have to stay, maybe tomorrow or another day.

I hear the children sing as they play upon its swing. They say if you swing in reverse, you can change things readjust the universe. When the children are tired and all gone home and I'm by myself and all alone, I ride that swing fast and high. No matter how fast and hard I try I cannot go in reverse I cannot change the universe.

But I'll keep on trying until I succeed rope burns and palms that bleed.

I have to go back, I need to know who planted the seed and let this mighty oak grow.