30 scorching summers went by,
turning most leaves pale
The tree stood silent; come
rain, sun or hail
Occasional springs were joyfully
embraced while falls rhymed melancholy
And the rains came down steady,
cleansing the grime slowly
Then the storms crashed in,
withering defunct branches
Was I alone, under the shade or
a herd in the ranches
The promise of 30 summers was
never made, as the twig breathed scantily
Uprooted every winter, planted
on new soils, the twig smiled readily
Watching other trees grow, the
sky seemed unbounded
But then the frames changed, and
so did seasons and the roots stayed grounded
Amidst joy, pain, hope and
sunshine, here comes another decade
How tall could I grow, if in my
embrace finds no one shade…
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