bark thick as old men’s hands,
roots deep as buried secrets,
standing tall against the storm,
whispering to the sky’s madness.
time knows it but doesn’t care,
years flow like cheap liquor,
weathered faces and creaking limbs,
holding the weight of the world.
each ring a tale of survival,
with branches stretching for hope,
in the dance of wind and ash,
swaying to the song of the earth.
it stands alone yet forever,
watching lovers carve their names,
and children with laughter grow tall,
beneath its unwavering gaze.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: November 7th, 2024 05:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments2
Been there and seen their grandure, A lovely poem of nature
Excellent
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