I towered up, so tall and grand,

Stretching out many a wooden hand

I grew from the tiniest seed

A a sapling, from soil I was freed

Its funny to think, how things are now,

My aging trunk wonders how

I’m now a thing of such delight!

I’m in such an honourable plight!

I feel I’m tall enough to touch the sun

I peer down to each an everyone

The sunlight glares to all to make way

But I’m big enough to keep it astray

The wind whistles through my leaves

Wisha-wisha-wisha- all the trees!

Wisha-wisha-wisha- all the trees!

A pretty old poem I wrote  🙂