Oak Tree

April 10, 2018
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Arms gently swaying in the wind
Lover’s initials they have signed
With every gust I creak like a weathered floor
Young sprout, I am no more
My roots spread far and wide
My majestic size shows my pride
My rough skin cracks with age
Each crevice creatures take shade
Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall
Through many generations i’ve seen it all
I am an oak tree with arms
gently swaying in the wind

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