Kilbirnie
I wanted the poem to catch that idea that some people relish the shade but then complain about the darkness In the shade of Grandpa’s house There stood a Rowan Tree Where my Brother tried to climb With Rosalyn and me Every day my Grandpa came Admired it´s towering boughs While we as children playing there Saw darkened twigs and crows Shadows hung upon his life With towering darkened power Yet we as children plain could see Their withering every hour Its leaves held back the sunshine light Its branches stern with years Sitting with his chair and pipe It calmed away his fears Yet we as children playing in sight Saw only twigs and leaves Revealing more of sky to us Than he could ever see We pointed up at shafts of light Throughout the darkened power Whilst he preferred the shaded glade To pass the wakened hour We saw sun and endless days Upon his chair he sat Despite the passing years it stood The tree was sound at heart