Poem: The withered tree

I sit under the withered oak tree.
And I wonder if perhaps,
We have something in common.

Its leaves are colorless
From the sun beating down
Each day.

Its branches crack when the wind blows,
And everytime, a layer of it,
Seems to fly into the wind.

I can tell its aged, that its been through a lot.

But though the tree seems to be withered,
Seems to have lost hope,
I wonder if perhaps,
It is holding its own,
With strength
From way under the ground.

The roots flow with nourishment,
Because perhaps this tree,
Wasn’t expected to live so long.

It beat the odds, and when the forest
Around it was torn away,
It was left standing.

I stand up, and walk a couple steps backwards,
To get the full view of the tree.

Face to face, one life to another.

I wonder if it can see me,
I wonder if perhaps,
It has thoughts of how I look.
What I’ve been through.

The tree and I are quite similar
In story,
Only difference,
Its shows its scars from life on the outside.

While mine are found from within.

By: angie sarich

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3 thoughts on “Poem: The withered tree

  1. Faith: Thanks 🙂 Glad to see your name here:)
    (since I can’t see the face!) hope the pregnancy and all is going well girl:) I love ya!

    Cat: This comment STILL gets me lol. I am really glad you like it:) and as far as my own thoughts…for the moment, like you I just sit back and read between the lines…its a good place to rest for awhile:)

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