The Tree

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The tree never says anything
It gives itself warmth
So soon it will blossom despite the winter chill
By the window-sill I stare
Into a barren land
Except for the tree that still stands strong
Strong even in lonely times
The tree has been standing for a thousand years and she is her own ancestor
Her green leaves are her eyes

Looking everywhere for someone to be with her
Her stump is her feet

Helping her stand so she will not collapse
She’s a worn-out statue that is forgotten
She’s like a boulder with too much holes
She is a tree with nowhere to be





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