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 🙂
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