Underneath The Old Oak Tree

Sitting quietly,
Enjoying the gentle summer rays.
Long black hair framing a petite face.
Hidden underneath a delicate straw hat.
A fitted sundress patterned with yellow and white ruffles.
picking up the wind so quietly every now and then.
The majesty of nature surrounds us.
It’s warm embrace calms us deep down to our very souls.
The leaves flutter around us softly.
Blown about by the cool afternoon breeze.
Whispering secrets delicately as it runs to and fro.
As the birds sing proudly and waddle about.
A wave of melancholy hits me in the gut.
As i gaze upon my mother.
Dressed in the pale blue robe given to her.
Hey beauty now ravaged by the war she fights internally.
her spirit a shadow of what it used to be,
What it should rightfully be.
Her eyes burn brightly.
Not willing to give up.
But I’m just not so sure.
Tears well in my eyes.
As i remember my mother,
I long to be home.
back to better times,
Sitting underneath the old oak tree.
Steven Truong


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