Maple Tree
"To hold as 'twere, the miror up to nature. "
William Shakespeare," Hamlet 1601."
sitting under your branches all year
It doesn't matter what season it is.
Talking to you as if you could here me
Like you were my best friend.
Seen all the tears that have been shed,
to all the glorious moments.
There doesn't have to be big bright leaves
There doesn't have to be shade all day.
There is no where she would rather be
then sitting under the maple tree.
""the tree" contest
Rambling poet
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