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Alone it stands,
by its self,
no others are around.
The little field,
that is its home,
it looks to be so sad.
The branches heavy,
with new leaves,
the base is covered,
a blanket of thick moss.
And while I sit here in its shade,
this comfy resting place,
I wonder to myself.
Does the tree feel sympathy,
is that why it looks so sad,
does it weep for me.
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THE WEEPING TREE
THE WEEPING TREE
