Friend

I remember fondly that leaf
And the twig that accents my girdle
I shiver when I think of the wind
That nearly took me over
When I unwisely sunk my roots shallow
I picture the children
I have cradled in my bow
Musically dancing against the breeze
To rock them soundly into slumber
And the joyous games swung from my limbs
Their cackles still ringing
The scars give me pause
But no longer hold the sting of open wound
My children stand strong
In the shade I provided
And my fruits nurtured many
A famished soul

All rights reserved to James M. Cox