Times Moves On''
''To hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature''William Shakespeare,Hamlet,1601
In the mist of mornings' fog, lye the row of White Oaks.
As I walk I hear the whispers calling my name.
Gazed toward leaves feeling consumed by thought.
I fear not their questions.
Trees of wisdom, Oh' how you have watched me grow.
Years have passed,spring,autumn,and into snow.
Soon I will perish.
I am happy to go.
But you White Oaks,will forever flourish.
This I know.
''The Tree Poetry Contest''
Sponsored by..Constance-La-France-A-Rambling Poet-
written by..Kacey Greenlee
kaceymike29
4/20/11
Copyright © Kacey Greenlee | Year Posted 2011
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