Underneath The Gingko Tree


Wonderful poetry by a talented writer.

In the Glare of Neon

I never knew what my great grandfather meant when I
Looked at the tree outside my window
I often thought he was an eccentric sort of guy
Probably someone who knew the exact wrong way to go

Underneath the gingko tree,
I sat with my sister when she was three
We had a picnic of sandwiches
Which was interrupted by a bee

On his twenty third birthday
My great grandfather planted the gingko
With an engraved name on a metal plate
So we’d always know what it was, how old

He said he got the seeds when he went
Abroad and was lost in the Shibuya bustle
He had a few yens in his pocket, he spent
To an old lady selling seeds and thistle

He grew old, gathered and gave seeds away
Repaying the old woman for her kindness
Each year he did this on his birthday
Even after…

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