Truth of Old Oak Trees
Underneath the crescent moon,
I spy the eyes watching me –
no expression in the dark, just
glowing in the tree.
As the whispers ride the breeze
telling me their stories
A calming silence fills the trees
standing in their glory.
Who are you to question us
on why we love this valley
nowhere else can we be free
love is in this place only.
Underneath the starlet sky
the crescent moon is watching me
helping me to find the path
of truth through old oak trees.
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