There gnarled and twisted a tree cast in perfect miniature
its branches stretching eagerly to touch the open sky.
Each and every tip surrounded by the leaf shaped
dark red garnets which glisten in the summer sun.
Tucked neatly away here in the protection of the yard
among the other trees and other assorted shrubbery.
Reigning supreme over all it might cover and protect.
Crying to the world, “Behold, how beautiful I am!”
It was planted here years ago by some gentle soul
Who when taken with the exquisite charm and beauty,
had planted the treasure there inside her special garden.
She had nurtured it through many years and seasons.
Growing serenely, encompassed by the violets and ferns
The tree now towered above the garden's stately wall.
from time to time a random breeze brushes the leaves
and the redness ripples across the fish pond below.
A reflection of sheer elegance and beauty portrayed
in the now swirling chasm of water found underneath.
Though the tree's owner has long since passed away
and other people now walk in its reliable shade
the maple still from time to time remembers her
and sheds the teardrops no one notices, except me.
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