The Legend Of The Zelkova Tree

Kinsley Lee

There's a big zelkova tree on the hill,
Long ago, in my child days at home town.
Under it my grandmother waited me on the hill
Whenever I visited her house in home town.
 
The old men played the chess, in summer,
On the low wooden bench, under the tree.
The children made the snow men, in winter
And a shaman'd performed the rite at the tree.
 
One day the tree was fallen for construction,
And we heard the story of the workers death.
But new houses’re stood without the ruction,
On the hill, soon the villagers‘re on the lethe.
 
The village lost the old traces, now,
Tightly the houses’re on the vale and hill
But sometimes, the legends of the tree, sough
In me and villagers’ mind from the hill.
 
Wherever they live, whenever they live,
The whole villager've a zelkova tree in mind.
The legend of the tree won't disappear and live,
It is handed down from mind to mind.
 
Unconsciously my mother had waited the granddaughter
On the hill, where a tree had been in old days,
And on the hill, sometimes I'll wait my granddaughter,
And my daughter'll wait her grandson in some days.

  • Author: Kinsley Lee (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 2nd, 2023 18:47
  • Comment from author about the poem: I recollect sometimes my child days and the old town. There was a large zelkova tree on the hill. And my grandmother waited me there for calling me "To eat supper"
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 10
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    'or a granddaughter'
    (I think you meant a grandchild
    of any gender, right?)
    anyway, this was a moving read
    I love intimate family legacies like this
    a bridging of generations
    a lovely read, such warmth
    thank you! dear Poet

    • Kinsley Lee

      Thank you for your kind comments. Granddaughter is more preferable I think. Thank you so much! Have a nice weekend!



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