Was That The Tree?

Gazing at my picture book,

one which someone cast aside,

I spied a picture of a tree . . .

the “Holy Land” the title said,

though surely nothing there

remains from Jesus’ day  . . . .

nothing but perhaps that tree

believed to be perhaps

a remainder of a time long past

but burned into the heart and soul

within me.

If this tree could talk,

would it tell of a man who leaned against it,

one who smiled,

one who loved,

one who willingly died for me?

Could it have been a limb

from that very tree

on which the deed was done?

 

by Martha L Shaw – Copyright 11-26-2012