AT THE END OF THE STORY SHE PLANTED A TREE

I woke up this morning [there's a song in there somewhere...] with the end of a dream in my head and half a poem next to it. For once I did not have pen and paper next to hand and by the time I had found some both had begun to leak away.

I struggled on with what I had and managed to put something on paper. The line At the end of the story she planted a tree kept circling about my thoughts and led me to write a number of different drafts. I decided it was one of those lines that could be used in a workshop it was so open ended.

This is the first poem that attempts to support the fading dream.

Waking with Half a Dream in my Head Poem

At the end of the story she planted a tree,
completing the circle with this tired metaphor.
I can recall the image-just,
radiance from the tree uplights her face,
gypsy caravans, and the good people surround her.
Such a detailed engraving to underline completion.
This too is fading now my words have woken,
but there is nothing for them to do.
A different reality imprints its self on my brain.

I should explain that the dream had unfolded like a children's picture book, or a book with illustrations, I can remember even less now. There was this image of a page from a book with the main character in the middle, caravans off to one side and other people around her.

At the end of the story she planted a tree,
then climbed up its branches beyond my imagination.
This was not difficult, she tells 
the glass fox who nods.
They will dance a tango over mulberry leaves,
paint stars on the inside of a teacup,
then consult ceolacanths,
for whom water is but an abstract notion.
Hers will be an interesting life.

This just seemed to come of itself. I rather like it.

At the end of the story she planted a tree.
You can see it if you stand on tiptoe
and look through that wall,
it is a strong plant and will outlast my thoughts.
Perhaps it will be an extra in a drama 
that is played out in your head.

Later today this version popped up.

At the end of the story she planted a tree,
it was absent in the sequel.
This was commented on by at least three readers
but the forgetful author had hurried
towards his looming deadline.
It appeared in the movie,
an ill conceived affair,
designed to fly on the failing appeal 
of a tv actor whose voice was breaking.
The trilogy was squeezed into ninety minutes,
and the lack of finance showed.

Then that was that.

I would be interested in your thoughts. Myself I think I need to leave them be for a while to get an idea of how they work.
Here's Buffalo Springfield from 1967 with Mr Soul.