I long for the shade from the old oak tree,
As the sun beats on my brow,
The breeze is gentle yet full of life,
But I don't feel this, somehow,
I remember the first time he brought me here,
On a cold November day,
He said to me, by the old oak tree,
Don't ever go away,
And so a year passed quickly,
And we married after noon,
In the meadow with the old oak tree,
And we danced under the moon,
We had a beautiful loving life,
No children did I bare,
For illness came, it was a shame,
When I lost all my hair,
But he brings me flowers everyday,
And lays down next to me,
He talks and talks, I listen,
Under the shade of the old oak tree,
The view out here is wonderful,
Fields, every colour of green,
The winter snows, by far the best,
That I have ever seen,
He stares at me with loving eyes,
That fill with drops, like rain,
And in his face of weary lines,
I see his heartbreak pain,
I wish I could hold his hand,
And bring him home with me,
But I just wait and long for shade,
Under the old oak tree,
I whisper I'll never leave you,
But he cannot hear or see,
That I am there beside him,
Under the old oak tree.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:40 PM UTC
I long for the shade from the old oak tree,
As the sun beats on my brow,
The breeze is gentle yet full of life,
But I don't feel this, somehow,
I remember the first time he brought me here,
On a cold November day,
He said to me, by the old oak tree,
Don't ever go away,
And so a year passed quickly,
And we married after noon,
In the meadow with the old oak tree,
And we danced under the moon,
We had a beautiful loving life,
No children did I bare,
For illness came, it was a shame,
When I lost all my hair,
But he brings me flowers everyday,
And lays down next to me,
He talks and talks, I listen,
Under the shade of the old oak tree,
The view out here is wonderful,
Fields, every colour of green,
The winter snows, by far the best,
That I have ever seen,
He stares at me with loving eyes,
That fill with drops, like rain,
And in his face of weary lines,
I see his heartbreak pain,
I wish I could hold his hand,
And bring him home with me,
But I just wait and long for shade,
Under the old oak tree,
I whisper I'll never leave you,
But he cannot hear or see,
That I am there beside him,
Under the old oak tree.
Request permission to use this poem