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My Chestnut Tree
A poem by Dr Georges Ware's Cat

When I was just a tiny cat my master bought a tree
He said it was a Chestnut and was specially for me.
I loved to climb that little tree and play among its boughs
And always chose the highest point to call my proud meows.

As years went by the little tree grew always ever bigger
But still I reached the topmost twigs as easily as ever.
One summer day my master carved my name into that tree.
He said t'would live two hundred years and still belong to me!

Time passed. The tree grew big and strong but I grew old and lame.
My master had to lift me up to let me see my name.
Now my poor broken body lies deep beneath my tree
My spirit though still climbs it playing happily and free.

I think my master knows I'm here for when he stands below
He looks aloft and speaks my name and softly calls 'hello'.
I've still to wait a little while but then will come the day
When he and I together, will in my Chestnut play.

Visit Georges Ware's poem page

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