The Tree of Old
By: Imortal Sam R I
There in the distance, stands the tree of old,
With leafless branches, as in the season of cold.
Its tree bark grey, and covered in moss.
Once filled with life, but now life it has lost.
There stands the tree of old.
One day, this tree of old, shall fall,
Separating from the earth and all.
The branches broken, the moss undone,
The grey bark cracked, and the life still gone.
There stands the tree of old.
One day, in this tree of old, creatures shall live.
People shall come, and a seat it will give.
Soon life will come and the green grass grows
All around it. Whether the grass stays or goes,
Still there will be the tree of old.
Today, where I live, is the tree of old.
Surrounded by a city built with a concrete hold.
Its leafless braches worn away,
Its moss gone, and its grey begins to fade,
But still exist the tree of old.
A future day, its core shall decompose.
Leaving nothing but a brown grass hole.
Its being gone, but the idea still stands.
As if surviving with two branchy hands,
Shall forever be the tree of old.
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