On a hill
There is a tree
You can walk there, though it may take a while
The tree has no name, known to man
And it stands alone
Surrounded by dates and faces
Inscribed into a wall
Sitting on the bench the clouds followed the beam
Souls soar at the sight
The bench, well the bench did have a name

“Adam” RIP

On a hill
There is a lonely tree
A beech growing crooked in the wind
If it has a name it rarely speaks it
You can be sure it holds its secrets tight
In a blaze of freedom stood atop the hill
Arthurian fragments in the valley below

On a hill stands the lonely tree
It has visitors from all over the world
Sharing their lunches and their lover’s quarrel
Resolute in its regard
Guarding ancient barrows
Whose ghosts whisper out their tale
Distant pathways, glistening buildings a glow
Sigh it, you’ve met her before
The name as familiar as the pages of a well thumbed novel

The memory escapes you again
Chased away on the breeze
Lonely tree and the summer leaves
On a hill, you will always be

Copyright John de Gruyther 2015

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