Tree Of Life

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!”