The Old Oak Tree and Me
It’s stood there on its roots for years
Through winters, summers, springs and falls
And helped beautify the hillsides
When each spring it grew its oak leaves.
But, then a highway was built near
To where it always had called home,
Cut off its water underground
And it could not do naught but die.
So, now it stands without a leaf
And I feel just as old as it.
For my time too, is coming round
When we shall both meet in the ground.
W.C.Hull © 2020-18-5-WCH04-WCH1-4 PPS
W.C.Hull © 2020-22-6-H1457-2568-I52-K52-35-L59-7
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