A tree grows, <br />From my hopes, <br />My dreams, <br />My wishes. <br />My fears, are the leaves; <br />Sometimes they are there, <br />Other times they fall <br />To reveal my strong sturdy branches. <br />The color of my branches, it shows. <br />It may not be pretty <br />But, <br />It is there, <br />It is bold. <br />It made the choice to be just that. <br />And as we drift from our families <br />And become the stars that surround our tree <br />Standing on our own <br />Closing in on the Moon <br />The world opens for us in a whole new way. <br />And <br />We can be, <br />Ourselves.<br /><br />Gabrielle L. Tastet<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tree-34/
