Beneath Our Oak Tree

One day, one fall,

When the world seems as grey and gone as your hairline,

And swimming in memories of the golden days

Hasn’t drowned your blues,

Promise me

That you’ll visit one eve

And retire for a while

Beneath our oak tree.

The mild shade infused

With the hues of honey-yellow leaves above.

And the cool earth,

A bed of fresh henna,

Soft, dark and crumbly.

Quiet but for wafts of air,

Feathery fingers to tickle your cheek and ear

Enough to softly fill the cavity of your chest

With a warmth, forgotten

And a few soft strums of an old guitar,


Till heavy sigh

You let go.

There, as you lay mesmerised,


Seizing the magic

Of lavender twists blowing

In the sunset…

You wonder why

You can’t remember the rest of that tune,

Nor gain grip on a life slipping through,

Like fish between bare hands.


Promise me, you will

That day, under our oak tree,

Rest your head on the hardwood

And look up at the sky –

A leafy collage,

We once imagined

A gallery of our love in the golden foliage.

A spread of post-it notes, each indented

With the markings of how dearly I love you

And you love me.

And when a storm hits your tender heart,

When your cloudy eyes rain your pain,

I will blow you kisses from the heavens

Plucking auburn hearts from branches.

Love-struck leaves, letters, memories, moments

Flying like kites above you,

Popping red and spiralling gold


And you will recite,

She loves me still, she loves me not,

As they glide to the ground around you

Till one flutters into your open palms;

For a moment, catching your hand

And you may just

Catch mine.

And then, promise me

That you will smile like first time we met

Murmuring softly, she loves me, leaf in hand.

Maybe that day you will realise

How our affection did not spring for just spring time and

Why I never plucked daisies in our love games.

No oracle could predict the legacy of our bond

Alive, nurtured, centuries beyond

Shedding tokens of a love outliving

The never-ending seasons.


One day, one winter

When you feel like a branch about to break,

Perhaps you might revisit our oak tree,

To resonate with its leafless state.

But promise me to look at the ground

Covered in a carpet of my love cards,

Season’s greetings.

Perhaps then you might think to

Once again pick up the pieces, our history,

And we’ll renew our vows

Once more under the oak tree.


Anew cycle of life commencing,

My promise I am delivering.

My love


Of spring

Will arrive soon,



© Copyright 2016  A Cup of Strawberries

All Rights Reserved

Published in: on April 7, 2016 at 3:10 PM  Comments (2)  
Tags: ,

2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Soothing,simple and enchanting


  2. Beautiful Molu


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