Bolocan Cristian Daniel

As a child, I loved writing poetry, even though others found it strange. Despite this, I saved one special poem, a testament to my early passion for words and self-expression. It remains a cherished memory of my unique creative journey.

Tree of Life

An old and grumpy, tired man with thinning hair,
Decides to plant an apple tree outside his home with care.
After some time spent watching, just to keep it safe,
The man dies of illness, in the springtime’s warm embrace.

The tree grows tall and blooms anew,
Though no one’s there to care it through,
Long and slender, quite a sight,
Children gather, pure delight.

They start to bend it, left and right,
Until a branch breaks from the fight.
But two more still remain in place,
For children’s games and new embrace.

One kid, cleverer than the rest,
Pauses briefly, passes the test.
They used it as a slingshot’s arm,
But the tree showed no alarm.

Two old women, angered, glower,
For their grandkids used eggs to shower,
They were mad and sought to hack,
The tree down, for it fought back.

In the end, they spared the tree,
A miracle it seemed to be.
The tree grew tall up to floor two,
The neighbor there, quite a view,
Wanted to cut it down for shade,
In his room, where light decayed.

A neighbor calmed him, eased the fight,
But in a year, or two, or might,
Another neighbor from floor two,
Wanted a parking spot, it’s true,
But the tree was saved once more,
The neighbor left, another door.

Though the tree had grown so high,
It never bore fruit, and here’s why,
Perhaps from all the pain endured,
In wartime, dry and insecure.

Planes flew overhead, famine spread,
A girl sat by the tree and pled,
For it to bear fruit and end the strife,
To save them all, to bring back life.

Though the tree was deeply sad,
Her tears healed it, made it glad.
It began to bear fruit, plenty and red,
People fought for the apples it shed.
It saved them from hunger’s grasp,
But soon they forgot the past.

After the war, they paved the street,
And soon the tree met its defeat.
In a few short days, it was no more,
The tree was cut, a tale of yore.

That’s me, at work…
📸: Aleksey Leonov

Working day 🎬🎥

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