Grand Old Oak Tree

What tales your leaves must whisper of youths tall in your strong arms. Pretending to be pirates in a terrible, fierce storm. Or lovers in your shadows making vows they sometimes kept; dreamer's secret hideaway, underneath leaves, young boys slept. Many years honed your boldness, growing taller, stronger, blest. You were proud to play sentry standing guard so birds could nest. You were the featured player in those years of grandeur past. Years have now turned against you and have burdened you at last. Growing older with seasons, branches balding, and falling. You stand proud as you listen to echoes and their calling. My good friend, grand old oak tree I will sit with you at last We'll tell each other stories of those days that have long passed. April, 2020 for Wisdom from Trees Poetry Contest by Anoucheka Gangabissoon