I remember what my father told me: <br />There is an age when you are most yourself. <br />He was just past fifty then, <br />Was it something about the trees that make him speak? <br /> <br />There is an age when you are most yourself. <br />I know more than I did once. <br />Was it something about the trees that make him speak? <br />Only a single leaf had turned so far. <br /> <br />I know more than I did once. <br />I used to think he'd always be the surgeon. <br />Only a single leaf had turned so far, <br />Even his body kept its secrets. <br /> <br />I used to think he'd always be the surgeon, <br />My mother was the perfect surgeon's wife. <br />Even his body kept its secrets. <br />I thought they both would live forever. <br /> <br />My mother was the perfect surgeon's wife, <br />I can still see her face at thirty. <br />I thought they both would live forever. <br />I thought I'd always be their child. <br /> <br />I can still see her face at thirty. <br />When will I be most myself? <br />I thought I'd always be their child. <br />In my sleep it's never winter. <br /> <br />When will I be most myself? <br />I remember what my father told me. <br />In my sleep it's never winter. <br />He was just past fifty then. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Jt<br /><br />Linda Pastan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/something-about-the-trees/
