The life of me, no one bothers me people are busy to cut me
I am standing sad no one cares me , as a two-hundred-year-old oak could be. The birds build their nests in my hair, I take no care, they are the reason why I ended up growing here.
It was in their many droppings that I grew, who knew? The good earth said; your growth I will in no way be stopping. Little kids built their swings upon my branches, the teens carved their love letters from the heart to say, they remain with me even unto this day.
Many a fierce fire I did survive, my friend, the rain, came at just the right time. I was always very sad when a lad, or lass, would weep at my side, their heartbroken wail was not a new tale for me to hear, the many Wars, tremendous loss of life, was hard for me to bear.
May I say good night, as my birds settle in my branches before dark, and, the breeze whispers a soft melody, followed by the song of a meadow Lark. May your dreams be sweet as you hit the hay, to live the gift of life, for another day.