Selfishly, I reflect on your deaths
As betrayals of my childhood memories.
For, you see, you were like ancient Oaks on my childhood street,
Deep-rooted bastions of my youth,
Withstanding weather, tests and time.

You cradled me in your arms when I fell,
Scented the late summer air with freshly cut grass,
Encouraged and chastised in fair and equal measure:
You were dependable, solid reminders that change is not absolute.

You are the foundations of my fanciful reminscences.

But now, living untethered from my playground,
News of your deaths trickle down to me.
Guardians of my childhood felled in quick shock succession.
Your beating hearts and breathing lungs were always just flesh and blood
Not the ancient timber trustees of my youth,
Simply characters who waved "hello" every day of those forever-summers,
Who never aged in my egocentric mind
Who leave dots of death on the streetmap of my memory,
Whose homes will never be properly re-occupied by useless strangers.