I see a man: <br />He sits atop the roof of his house <br />Idle. <br /> <br />There is something broken about him <br />Something deathly silent; <br />He sits staring intently <br />At my tree; <br />He is a loner, I can tell <br />A man of few, but meaningful words: <br />Who seeks the healing of the soul. <br />The silent majesty of my tree <br />The age, the warm beauty <br />Tell him the same soothing tale <br /> I too often seek: <br />A tale of perseverance through drought <br />Of discipline in adversity <br />Of dignified endurance in storm <br />A tale of death in autumns and rebirth in springs, <br />I can see his spirit respond <br />To the balming tale of regeneration. <br />His eyes sparkle with tears of realized pain; <br />And hope buds of life beyond it. <br />He looks my way <br />And we share a moment of humanity <br />Linked in pain <br />Seeking the healing <br />Through nature <br />God <br />And each other. <br /> <br /> <br />*...to me trees are the biggest warmest bear hugs nature has ever handed out....they inspire me thus.<br /><br />wardha jawdat<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-tree-3/
