The Tree

Amongst a mighty forest of hunter green
A middle aged oak tree grows tall
Dreaming of the days she’ll be understood
Surrounded by the judging older trees
And think they know it all youngsters
She is cheerful, sad but happy too
Yet not knowing fully why

The ragged saplings of youth
Are almost trapped in their plastic guards
Dressed in all the colours of the rainbow
Where as the elders look down
Knowing things were different in their day
Simpler with less meddling by humans
Why can nature not be left to be itself

Alone with the youthful optimism
Alone among the judging elders
Her mind meanders and twists her branches
Pondering silently in the shadows of time
As the wind tickles all leaves to dance
She stretches out as listens to the birds
Wishing she could be as free as they are

© Fi S. J. Brown

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