Beneath the Ancient Oak

Devoutly, I spent my last precious days

beneath a vast and ancient oak, chanting

ballads warm and pure as light haunting

that scaled high horizons, questing new ways.

I shut my eyes and dive in heaven’s bays,

swimming along, my being transforming—

young again, cheerful, old friends embracing,

as we once did, in those carefree days.

Alas, though death appears, fear allays

as I feel my breath gently descending;

yet a cycle is quietly impending

to close, and new life stands at the doorways.

©2026, Vasiliki Papadopoulou