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Poetry Pages

Afternoon Tree

It is late afternoon
and the autumn sun sneaks behind
the London plane,
painting a long shadow across the park.

My mind wanders ahead of me,
like a small child pulling against his reins,
kicking through the fallen leaves,
a memory...

The tree is the past
and we walk in its shadow.

We cannot cut it down.
We cannot out-run it,
it just grows ever-longer.

But we could step to the side,
into the sunlight,
and view it from a different angle.

We do not have to stay in the shadows,
we can all pull free from the reins.

Derek Lee