A dedication to a fellow-poet who wrote on the wonder of trees:


There was none around
dusk was about to set in
a tender voice I heard
it hardly made a sound:

'Under our warm shades you frolicked
so often as a child--such lonely joys you found
to return home you totally forgot
as our brown leaves fell on the silent ground

your parents were here too
long ago and here they made their vow
in their footsteps you follow
the then has become now

our hearts will you faithfully keep
as time drifts on in its perpetual round ?
We'll still wait for your return
and once again together in nostalgia bound