My Chestnuts

If I were a Horse Chestnut tree, I’d want to change my name
I’d call myself a Lovely Chestnut tree, otherwise I’d be the same

We admired those blooms of white over in the park,
Still visible as we walked along as it turned dark

But my greatest pleasure was what they gave each fall,
Dropping green spiny husks about the size of a golf ball.

The husk broke open when it hit the ground,
And there inside was the seed, glistening brown.

If I tossed those into a pile of burning leaves late in the day,
I could hear them explode later from the bedroom where I lay

When I return to my hometown I can find no chestnut trees,
The people tell me that they all have died from some disease

Well if at this point no chestnuts can be found,
I don’t think that this old man will stick aroun