Arden Hall Magic

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Arden Hall Magic

I met a friend by an old Oak tree,
Remember me? He smiled his smile,
I could not walk on by,

We sat on murky mushroomed ground,
Craned our necks out high,
To a solid old oak tree,
Now taller than the sky,

All around us lay its fruits,
In greens and oak deep browns,
As they had done all those years before
Broken branches coaxing them down,

Our offspring play amongst its roots,
Searching for their crown,
As we recycled tales of fairies,
In tree roots all around,

Of toadstool tea parties
Secret holes,
Where gentle woodfolk live,
Of Mr Arden and his Hall,
The school that he did give,
He gave the gift of learning,
But little did he know,
That amongst his planted oak trees,
Little minds and feet would grow.

His greatest gift
Arden Hall
Its majesty sublime,
Creating magic for decades more,
Down Lancashire family lines,

We smiled again now,
As they smiled too,
In our beautiful old Oak tree town,

His branches carried us all now,
Whispering silently,
‘Pass it down’


familylancashirenature poetryoak treePoemtreewood

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Sat 6th Feb 2021 12:44

Thanks Tom. I'm glad to read this.

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Sat 6th Feb 2021 12:09

Really enjoyed.

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