A lone tree stands in an open meadow,

Its branches creak and sway in the wind

Having been there for sometime now,

The tree has faced many elements and changes

But it remains standing, firm and tall

Isolated and yet open to all


It is an observer,

Watching all those who pass by:

Youth skip and chase one another; carefree and innocent

Adults pass through hurriedly with worries on their mind

Others stumble apon this meadow, but continue on their way,

It is an observer unlike all those who pass by.


Not until a day late in the life of this tree,

Did a passer-by ever stop and observe

She was a short girl, too old in age to be called a child,

But not yet that of an adult

“This is fantastic” 


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