My Father is a Tree
I think by that I mean he is big–
but he is also leafy and deciduous.
He’s a flowering
tree not a fruiting one.
I guess you could pick strips of his bark
and slowly crumble it in your hands.
I’ve been told I look a bit like him
when we stand side by side.
Rather unlike a tree he tells me
he’s proud of me and a good man.
So it’s a bit confusing at times having a father.
8 thoughts on "My Father is a Tree"
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I like that turn beginning with “Rather”. What a great, true closing line.
Ah but you are his fruit, aren’t you? 😏
“I guess you could pick strips of his bark
and slowly crumble it in your hands.”
Damn. I guess you could. What a great line.
Thanks for sharing your writing with us. : )
This is a delight on every level
This makes me smile on many levels. It really hits and echoes.
I like that you reveal that you are guessing at your own meaning…and then that it’s followed up by the description of “leafy and desiduous” in such an authoritative tone.
I wonder what your daughter will compare you to when she’s a grown woman?
I like how you carry the metaphor/simile throughout the poem.
He’s a flowering
tree not a fruiting one.