The Sycamore Tree
I remember
It was in medieval times
When I met you — again -
Wandering about the english countryside
Not too far from the fairgrounds.
You danced your way
Minstrel boy
With your mandolin
Strapped across your back
And your long dark hair blowing
In the soft summer breeze.
Finding your magic place
High on the hill
Overlooking the town
In the gracious shade
of the venerable Sycamore tree.
Leaning into its sturdy trunk
As you swung your instrument around
You began to play
this haunting melody
At once sweet and smouldering
At once ancient and freshly new again.
Your music
Pulling me -like in a dream -
As the sun pulls the moon
From across the fields and far away
The song I remembered
As a faint but persistent whisper
Across lifetimes of missing.
You sang me back to meet you here
Sang me into your arms
Into your lap.
Kissed me and loved me
As if for the very first time
Though we both knew that wasn’t so
Made love to me there
With a passion lit from the fire of the Gods
There under that giant Sycamore tree.
Minstrel boy
I loved you then
And love you now
As you return
To ravish me one more time
Rock star of the galaxy
Singing that whimsical love song
That only we can hear.
I will not forget
This fortuitous meeting
Under the firmament
At this infinite time
In this eternal moment
Nothing can keep us apart
Not even centuries
For true love will have its way
Will have its day
Conjoured by the dulcid tones
of the mandolin
Under this beloved Sycamore tree.
© Julie Tara
