A poem for Karen

This tree is in our local Botanical Gardens. It was planted by five life long friends one of them being my wife (now deceased). Under this tree is a time capsule with their story and other momentos of our time. This poem was written by a friend upon the death of my Karen last week.

THE BITO TREE

In honour of and respect for the life of Karen Leatham

A small tree was planted –  a mere stick in the ground by a group of strong women, who shared a deep bond.
The ‘sisters with history’ marked at the spot, a memory capsule lest they be forgot.
A simple but beautiful gesture that day;a powerful pact that time couldn’t betray.
And so the tree started to set down some roots,but as it found grip, one sister’s came loose.
All through the winter the little tree stood, but the sister grew weak, fighting hard as she could.
At last came the spring and the tree felt alive, it burst into tiny green leaves and revived.
The sister, by contrast, was fading away, she was finding it harder and harder to stay.
The little tree called to her,”Please try to hold on! Who am I growing for if you are gone?
”Then sensing the moment,the little tree sighed “I vow to keep growing if you promise to fly”.
So comes the summer and the sister has flown.
The others sit under the tree, now more grown.
The magic and courage of she they loved dear, lives on through it’s leaves, whispering
“I am still here!”

Shelley Reeve 14.12.2016