Warmed by the sun
three years before the decade changed
in the school-less summer
of my youth
solitary, simply games I played
in childhood abandon
oblivious of you;

I was nine
and you a newborn
you cried at first life
and I at my sunburn
in that my loneliest, longest,
formative summer
you were soundless to me
yet you spoke deeply to your mother;

You grew and loved
often pushed your heart pulled
hardly heard, loud shouted down
but always somewhere making sounds
you cast with care into the stratosphere
knowing decades later
it would be you
I would hear.

© D. Archer March 2012

One Tree Hill

One hoary tree
defiant against both sides
as a beacon to nature
in no-mans’ land.

Neither bomb nor winter shook it
whilst he in hellish
gas filled trench
fell where I was rooted in
my seventeenth summer.

Copyright D. Archer October 2011