HOME OF THE FLOWING PEN

To be a tree
With its reserve so strong
Holding firm
Though days are long

Unmoveable in life
Yet living it still
Doing nothing at all
That's against its will

Feeling the freedom
Knowing the pleasure
Never fearing for a heart
Or taking preventative measures

For a tree will bend
Yet will seldom break
A stranger to pain
Never knowing heart ache

To be a tree
I wish that I could
This pain would just end
In a heart made of wood

~THE FLOWING PEN~
6-14-04

The soul that sees beauty
may sometimes walk alone.
~Johann von Goethe~

To Be A Tree