The Oak

January 1, 2010
It towers,
an obelisk,
of age and nature,
with memories and tears,
and they do fall,
dropping from the leaves,
to soak the ground once more,
for the ground has had its share of torents,
and the tree,
calls its mournful,
broken call,
to the others in serenade,
of a dream once had,
and a hope once lost.

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