Below the Queen Tree

I cross my front garden to my favourite tree and sit down,

She has a thick leaning trunk and a beautiful green crown,

Soft grass at her base, welcomes my feet like an old friend,

The queen tree is the kind, a younger me would often ascend,

I’d climb to the top and feel the sun on my smiling face,

Above the world in her castle, my secret green hiding place,

Times have changed, and now I must admire her from below,

My bare feet in the grass, and the greying face of an old fellow.