Stood, where it had been planted many generations ago, <br />Its huge trunk burdened by the weight of the heavy limbs <br />Creaking when the wind would blow … <br />Flowers had adopted a place beneath its shade their colors <br />Enhancing the boldness of the slate grey bark <br />Surrounding in endless tall green blades … <br />As children we played in this tree swinging off its branches <br />Falling to the carpet of grass below … <br />It had been through a lot this old oak <br />Tears of joy and sadness <br />Left its mark embedded on its trunk … <br />Names of some … <br />That had been scratched through <br />Forever forgotten… <br />Yet it stands strong <br />Its beauty untarnished … <br />By memories that have soaked into its life <br />And for the memories to come… <br />From the children now staking it as their own…<br /><br />joy lemoine Powell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-oak/
