Read Poem: The old man and the tree, by Andrew Smith

He sat in the shade of an old oak tree,
Rembering day’s gone by,
Those adolescent, vibrant years,
When he had felt alive,
But the sands of time have fallen,
The winds of age have left their mark,
Now his skin is brown and wrinkled,
Like the trunk of this old oaks bark.

Across the field are families,
Children running here and there,
Shrieks of laughter as they play,
Games of Tag or maybe dare,
Images of his childhood,
Suddenly spring to mind,
His mum and dad and siblings,
Who now dwell in the annals of time.

The world has changed around him,
Piece by tiny piece,
And no one saw it coming,
So softly does progress creep,
And as he gazes upon the young ones,
A question invades his head,
What sort of world will they live in,
When he, himself, is dead.

He grew up in the days…