The Old Oak Tree

The Old Oak Tree I stood beneath an old oak tree; how tall it did seem Its branches would shelter me as on its bark I would lean; as I lay beneath its cooling branches I would tell it my troubles and my dreams It was summer in my life, and oh so busy I was; to notice its weathering branches; to notice the tree I loved Soon the leaves began to change and bake upon the ground; red, yellow, orange and shades of golden brown The old oak tree was dying from its branches the birds did not sing for snow was now drifting and to its branches did cling As death comes and takes us away, so it did with the tree that day. When spring began to visit the earth once again, and flowers were blooming everywhere I decided to take a walk and visit the tree I knew wasn't there The hillsides were blanketed with shades of mellow greens and I stood alone; just God, the flowers and me in my blue jeans As I stood in the midst of dancing colored flowers my eyes began to swell with tears was a twig that would be grown in a few more years The sun began to warm the sky and by that twig I did lie, telling it my troubles and my dreams; just God, the twig and I in my blue jeans