Tree of Life
By Alan P. Scaglione
Last year, she turned ninety-two
With gray hair and glasses
She shits on her porch
Rocking, remembering the masses.
All the people she’s known
All the family she’s had
All the memories she’s made
Some good, some bad.
As she rocks, she’ll start talking
She’ll say, “I remember the time…
When CoCola’s and milk
Were only a dime.
I remember when Roosevelt
The best President we’ve had
That day that he died
Now that day was so sad.
I remember when Essie
Was born to Aunt May
Now, Essie’s all grown
With grandkids on the way.
I remember my friends
Most are dead now, you see
But I remember their faces
There were so happy and free.
I was one of twelve children
Mommy and Daddy were good
They brought us up right
Taught us to do what we should.
How I miss my old Mommy
The stories she told
While she rocked in THIS rocker
Our family history’d unfold.
She told of uncles and aunts
Of times we weren’t free
Now that my Mommy’s gone
Guess the job’s left to me.
She’d say each family member
Is like the branches of a tree
The life flows from the trunk
But the branches are what’s free.
The trunk does its job
Branches grow, from the life that’s been given
That trunk, it’s part is necessary
Without it there, there’d be no living.
I’m the trunk of this family
The branches you are
Surprise me, my children
Grow long and grow far.
Remember my stories
Remember our talk
Someday…you’ll be sitting
While the children watch you rock!”