A Single Tree Among
A single tree among the wood
Has earned a special place,
For in its bark I carved my name
And that of my love Grace.
In summers past we tarried there
Beyond the city’s din,
A picnic basket we would bring
With lots of good stuff in.
Beneath the tree we’d munch our snacks
And speak just what we felt,
Anticipating ruined choirs
Where late the songbirds dwelt.
The forest mice would gather round
And hum a pretty tune,
The forest moose might stop by too,
Though hopefully not soon.
The mountain stream would run its course,
Though in another place,
For our wood was in a plain
Far from the hills’ embrace.
When Grace would turn and say to me
“When we are old and gray . . .”
I vowed to love her in December
Just as I had in May.
As sign of our undying love,
To last throughout our life,
I carved our names upon the tree
With my Swiss Army Knife.
“Forever, then,” said Grace aloud,
“I’m yours for all of time.”
Amazed was I at Grace’s speech,
Recorded in this rhyme.
So if you travel through the wood
And chance upon this tree,
Take note of our eternal names:
Amazing Grace, and me.