The Old Tree

On a lurch hill,
stands an old giant tree,
Weathered by the years gone by.

I stand in front of it,
to look upon it's mightyness,
Its branches are weak,
but collosal in size.

With the warm wind echoing,
the sound of nature behind,
i stand there amazed.

Its twangled branches,
that interloom with one another,
gives a ghoulish look.

And so here i am,
scared and enjoying,
But a vision i see it,
rocking all the time.

A vision of hope,
for the leaves to grow,
for the leaves to green,
for birds to fly to it,
for people to sit under it.

My old tree!
I hope someday you grow young,
and fantasy, a dream and a wish.