I once knew a place

I Once knew a Place

I once knew a place a long time hence,
No entrance found to the high stone fence,
The Labyrinth of vine the gate did hide,
To hold the secrets that lay inside.

The need to see what may reside,
A different place from that outside,
A youth one day I climbed the wall,
A vision remiss aged herbage tall.

A neglected plot seemed lost in time,
I trespassed yes but none the crime,
My soul could see past weed and thorn,
Once beauty thrived yet now forlorn.

Yet something strange abide that place,
Drew me in spellbinding embrace,
Amongst the weeds, thistle and thorn,
One stood tall in the early morn.

Like the Phoenix of lore in majesty,
Was Father of time, the old oak tree,
I asked permission, begged its pardon,
For invading the peace of the secret garden.

The years did pass and know not when,
The day I felt the tree my friend,
This my tree in that special place,
I called my own and shared its space.

It's Autumn time, the wind blows free,
Much colder now beneath the tree,
I feel the years have done the same,
To me, my life with none to blame.

I did not visit as oft before,
Not my intent the tree to ignore,
It allowed my youth its space to invade,
To draw on its strength to sit in its shade.

As winter came the tree would sleep,
I'd do my best a promise to keep,
When days grew warm and flowers to see,
I'd visit again that special tree.

The seasons changed the flowers had bloomed,
I could not visit as I assumed,
Life had taken me far away,
From the garden I spent many a day.

I returned many years much later in life,
To the place of the garden to show my wife,
I spoke of my youth and time spent there,
A magic place we both could share.

Til this day I don't understand,
What happened to the garden, that magic land,
It was not there, no walls nor tree,
No sign ever was, nothing to see.

I went for years to sit and be free,
To contemplate life how could this be?
The visits so vivid my mind can see,
The garden walls and the old oak tree.

Memories of youth, the garden and tree,
Just like the years began to flee,
Now and then my thoughts recall,
The faintest vision of the garden wall.

Many years have passed, so many since then,
I hardly remember the time spent when,
I climbed the wall, received its pardon,
The old oak tree and the secret garden.

My life was good, the years did flee,
No longer am able to visit the tree,
Perhaps someday another finds pardon,
To visit my tree in the secret garden.

Real or dream, no difference I care,
It was a place I wanted to share,
Perhaps the time where I came from,
Was only a vision of things to come.

If only once more to visit the place,
Where youth restored in that magical place,
To see a dear friend with no need of pardon,
The old oak tree and the secret garden.

George T. Regenauer