The Tree

Poet-tree

For hundreds of years the tree has grown up,To touch the sky it will never give up,Tall and straight,The oak will not wait,To touch the sky, to touch the clouds,Up, up it goes.

How many people have sat in its shade,Or watched it with the wind sway?The leaves do whisper,The trunk does moan,And in it a squirrel has made a home,As it goes up and up.

It will continue its climb,Till the end of time,With the world at its roots,It is the tallest tree,That I ever did see,Going up, up, up!

Elinor Tuffnell