Grandads Swing

The M I M O S A

When she blooms She’s elegant but her smell is her claim to fame
The tree of happiness is just one of its Chinese common names

During my childhood, this was the tree where our tire swing hung
There was no way to count all the songs I had sung when I swung

You could smell her delicate floral aroma before You could see
the small trees pink flowers that looked like cotton candy

As a small child, I would spend hours to swing and think
I would climb up in its branch to examine the flowers of pink

Grandad had put it up out away from the flowers by the shed
He didn’t want any busy feet trampling on his flower beds

It was just the act of playing and swinging
The mimosa trees scent got us to dreaming

Today when I see a Mimosa tree I close my eyes and I can still see
Grandads Mimosa tree-dressed up in pink fluff and beckoning me

Come rest your heels and dream away
Maybe I’ll plant my own mimosa tree someday