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written 20 years ago - original and played then too - but now first recorded -
as well as my treestyle freestyle pencil sketch . . .
Tree .mp3 song hereby posted.
bee the 1st almost to get the tree song.
piano song - I use to practice it a while back and always wanted to record it !
time = 4:26
category = romantic - victorian - jazzy classical - as it branches outward.
Someone said it might be kind of deciduous.
. . . well here is my sycamore poem . . .
Miss Sycamore
I am but a tree with many a hand ~ I arrived as a seedling when Custer could stand ~
Try to see me with a wide-angle view, for I am a shelter who covers for you.
Cutting devices are tearing me down ~ a towering blaze in a lumberjack town.
A camper's inferno, a spark of a lighter ~ a match of a stick or a champion fighter.
Many like me ~ their timber was shaken ~ when tender and young, by flame we were taken.
Briefly I stood to relish a view ~ but never could walk a step as I grew.
You'd think I'd have freedom, it's easy to grow,
but after the fall where can I go ?
During the years of an indian summer I danced to the beat of a different drummer.
Unsheltered from rays or plant-eating life
where clamoring crows will cackle and fight.
Sycamore enters a dream without warning
trapped in a place where the public is swarming.
I see a solution and know what to do,
Impending disaster shall never come true.
A tree of distinction may be a resource.
but Sycamore burdens a lumbering horse.
Thunderclouds burst ~ a quenching reward.
They shower a land we cannot afford.
Mysterious Sycamore sees what you do.
In token of fall she leaves it to you.
Surrounded by leaves growing in clover,
not like an outlaw who works the world over
After we find him hiding about,
soon he is shackled and soon he is out.
A tree for an artist to shade from the heat
for climbing a ladder providing a seat.
Her eyes never close as they speak to the wind
harboring wearing ~ on her they depend.
Living a life in every chapter
ever so silent a circle of laughter.
Miss Sycamore frozen in winter so cold,
thinking tomorrow's a page to unfold.
We are like trees so I am told
In many a way we are like they.
We are like Sycamore so I am told
Except for the eons she took to unfold.
as well as my treestyle freestyle pencil sketch . . .
Tree .mp3 song hereby posted.
bee the 1st almost to get the tree song.
piano song - I use to practice it a while back and always wanted to record it !
time = 4:26
category = romantic - victorian - jazzy classical - as it branches outward.
Someone said it might be kind of deciduous.
. . . well here is my sycamore poem . . .
Miss Sycamore
I am but a tree with many a hand ~ I arrived as a seedling when Custer could stand ~
Try to see me with a wide-angle view, for I am a shelter who covers for you.
Cutting devices are tearing me down ~ a towering blaze in a lumberjack town.
A camper's inferno, a spark of a lighter ~ a match of a stick or a champion fighter.
Many like me ~ their timber was shaken ~ when tender and young, by flame we were taken.
Briefly I stood to relish a view ~ but never could walk a step as I grew.
You'd think I'd have freedom, it's easy to grow,
but after the fall where can I go ?
During the years of an indian summer I danced to the beat of a different drummer.
Unsheltered from rays or plant-eating life
where clamoring crows will cackle and fight.
Sycamore enters a dream without warning
trapped in a place where the public is swarming.
I see a solution and know what to do,
Impending disaster shall never come true.
A tree of distinction may be a resource.
but Sycamore burdens a lumbering horse.
Thunderclouds burst ~ a quenching reward.
They shower a land we cannot afford.
Mysterious Sycamore sees what you do.
In token of fall she leaves it to you.
Surrounded by leaves growing in clover,
not like an outlaw who works the world over
After we find him hiding about,
soon he is shackled and soon he is out.
A tree for an artist to shade from the heat
for climbing a ladder providing a seat.
Her eyes never close as they speak to the wind
harboring wearing ~ on her they depend.
Living a life in every chapter
ever so silent a circle of laughter.
Miss Sycamore frozen in winter so cold,
thinking tomorrow's a page to unfold.
We are like trees so I am told
In many a way we are like they.
We are like Sycamore so I am told
Except for the eons she took to unfold.
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magnatone
i'm so confused - i commented on this song not an hour ago! guess i forget to hit "send" or something like that. sigh .... well, what i said was that i'm constantly in awe of your incredible piano chops scott, and the gorgeous way you compose your music. i'm a fan for life! i hope THIS comment sticks around!