The tree
From deep in the earth, under the clear blue sky,
an old rustic tree, handsome and stout,
Living through time, thriving through rain
and sometimes drought.
With branches aloft and reaching up high,
drift with breeze, teasing the sky,
Proudly standing erect, to those seeking shelter,
a welcome place to fly.
With shape and a grace, surviving generations,
for all to admire,
To gaze at the bow, standing tall and free,
the pens of many to inspire.
Indifferent to problems and troubles
of man’s own making,
Oblivious to disease violence,
wars and hearts breaking.
Mystery and truth swaying in the breeze,
toing and froing, unsettling the leaves,
When the tree dies, leaving the blue sky above,
no need for sorrow no one grieves.
For more trees will grow and life will go on,
trees will continue to prosper and thrive,
Mankind will continue to kill and destroy,
hopes for a future, which it may never survive.
