Copyright © by Jim C. Carpenter There stands an aging sycamore tree Among it's branches and leaves I climbed, And there I scanned the valleys wide, A lowly bluebird circled 'round, A gentle breeze was the only sound And now as an old and wistful man I'd like to climb to my favorite branch But, today, the old tree stands aloneABOVE THE WORLD
Beneath whose branches strong,
As a lad I played in the cooling shade,
And harkened the bluebird's song.
To its spacious lofty crown.
And there in awe, at the sights I saw,
In wonder I gazed around.
While puffy clouds rolled by.
And solace filled the distant hills
Beneath a tranquil sky.
And seemed surprised to see,
A kid so high, that couldn't fly,
On the capstone of his tree.
To fill that noiseless day.
And every care I had to bear
Seemed very far away.
With hair both gray and thin,
Oh! what I'd give if I could live
Above the world as then.
And to view the hill and glen,
And live once more as I did before
And to be a kid again.
And it beckons, as in our prime.
But its branches strong, have weathered long
And it's too danged old to climb.
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