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.