Tree

A poem

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

But an old tree,
Sad face of willow,
Limbs cracked thru thick storm,
On corner of the street free.

Yet so far it is, none too far to see.
Oh, but to reach this freedom,
Roots hidden beneath the stretch…
Just so of free, by root of old tree.

If only such roots could carry,
From here to free street.
But an old tree,
dies here, to be there and merry.

From the stretch, grow and renew,
Awaiting you old tree,
Rebirth comes from away, the corner,
On the free street true to you.

-love yourself, live unashamed, be a blessing- April H.