It seems so strange that they’re here.
These twisted trees at the edge of school.
A peaceful place amongst all the chaos and mayhem.
There is a poor attempt at a fence between
But its so worn that a child could crawl through.

If I were to squeeze through the hole,
The dry leaves would crackle and crunch beneath my feet
And the trees would whisper strange secrets in my ear.

If I looked back at the playground,
The teenage antics and fights over bewildered girlfriends would still be there –
but insignificant – compared to the timeless ways of the trees.

If I placed my hand on a branch,
I’d take courage from the thick, strong bark
And the moss coating it like a freshly dipped sponge.
I’d feel the crisp, cold air rushing through my lungs.

So here I am
At the edge of school
Next to the hole in the fence,
And then –

I’m gone.

2 Responses Subscribe to comments

  1. Story Republic

    A really evocative poem Enid, both in terms of current physical place and memory of experience. Very powerful.

    Sep 04, 2017 @ 8:53 am

  2. Amanda Harris

    I really like your poem Enid and can feel the pull of the calm and timelessness of the trees against the immediate rowdy issues of the playground.
    we are about to start the Young Writers Group led by the great writer and workshop leader Jane Pugh – first one is one September 30th. Love to see you there.

    Sep 04, 2017 @ 4:09 pm