My Tree

By Samuel K Byrd (for my grandmother) I remember from my childhood the old tree Older than me and my mother put together I remember how I hated raking the leaves in the fall On stormy nights how spooky its shadow looked As it crept through my window During spring time its pollen kept my allergies in an uproar One day my father cut my tree down Now the lawn looks bare We no longer sit on the porch Because the shade it provided is gone Or build club houses Now that our foundation is no longer there Or enjoy the fruit it use to bare At times a despised enemy But mostly a beloved friend I miss my tree