A Tree

August 1, 2008
When I was Little my dad and me,
planted a tree,
to show everybody for all eternity,
how much he loved me.

A tree grows from a baby
like memories we remember maybe
as the tree grows old
the bark folds and goes

But unlike bark on a tree
memories always stay with me
but as I grow old
the memories grow old too

But the old like the new stick like glue
as the tree grows old it will die
but in its place seeds grow of the same kind
and as if the tree was there

The seeds bring back memories
like my children will do for me
but when I die
I hope my children remember me

As I remember the tree
young and full of life
no faded bark or growing vines
just there standing


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