Old Life

Old life A tree has a seed A small seed gives life to a tree Now a tree grows By girth it increases Leaves green they look The only shade for hot sun A hope keeps glowing for the gardener Vigorously the gardener sees it grow Now old it is Down it withers from head Roots no longer go deeper Time now for it to be cared Old the tree is new branches keeps it alive The tree is now growing white A stick needed to make it stand Branches its your time The tree's time long gone Silas the poet