My Tree
The tree stands tall at the edge of the park
No one knows what she has seen
A thousand memories form the crinkles in her bark
So many different directions her arms have tried to reach
So long she has been there
We forget to look up and see
The beauty of the sun between her fingers
And the drops of rain on her blanket of leaves
If we climbed up high, we would sit amongst the clouds
Her branches are a living ladder to our loved ones
Who dance in the stars above us
The souls of our lost friends sing to the music of the wind
When her leaves rustle and whisper
She is a friendly place, my happy place
A wise woman who will listen to my worries,
When I lean my back against her trunk and sigh, we are one.
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