The old oak tree stood tall and firm
Each time you gazed upon its bold branches
it would reassure you that wind,
even as powerful as a tornado itself,
wouldn’t be able to make it fall

I remember the day
That I wanted to climb the lofty old oak
I was a warrior
brave, strong, and ready to face the tree’s intimidation
I thought nothing would go wrong
Climb up, climb down, appendages unharmed

I tried to escalate myself to the top
Climbing jaggedly and pushing tree branches and cottony leaves out of my way
It was an enjoyable combat,
Me and the old oak tree
Until my oak opponent let me down

I found a branch
A nice branch
Perfect for foot placement
From this branch I would most certainly be able to reach higher heights of the old oak tree
The branch seemed sturdy, it appeared worthy of holding me up, it enticed me to step on it,
as if it wanted to make itself my ally in achieving my strongly sought goal

I placed my blameless foot on the deceitful branch
In one split second I had slammed against the earth’s dusty surface
Oh! To My lungs
Slammed harshly, leaving me to gasp for sharp breathes of air
Only to exhale in agony

Oh! To my youthful bones
Chipped, cracked, crushed
My voice was bound within me
All I could do was let salty saline stroll down my cheeks

Was the old oak tree too old?
Had it’s strength withered with time
I laid in disbelief gazing at the misleading branches
Once a friend
Now a foe

I will never forget that regretful day,
regretful choice, and
regretful encounter I had with
The old oak tree