I don't know if I ever wrote 'The Ash Tree' properly but I may as well try to write it or rewrite it:

The Ash Tree stands by the endless road
there since before memory

the road goes up into the hills
and the road goes down to the town

there used to be a family there
young children who played

watched over by their father
safe under his care

they moved away
one sad day

following the endless road
and leaving the tree behind

like the birds nested in the tree
they grew wings and flew

but sometimes they came back
no one forgets where they were born

sometimes longing for the past
when things were simpler and less grim

it was long ago now 
that the children cried and played

beside the endless road
where the tree still stands

and the soul of  the father sleeps
dreaming of the playtimes of all his children