Our Oak Tree

Two centuries it has been there, standing proud and tall,
weathering every storm and refusing to break or fall.
When I gaze upon its beauty, it seems to talk with me,
telling me old secrets the oak has chanced to see.

Through all those years, people have come and gone,
Some of them sitting beneath his branches until dawn.
As couples picnic, he hears secrets they share,
Memories left behind, their initials etched with care.

Fondly he remembers a young couple, lovers from years ago
Sitting on a blanket, holding hands, all aglow.
When they left, a heart was carved in his trunk,
Each time he sees that heart, he remembers their spunk.

That old oak tree wears his scars proudly for the world to see,
Each one reminds him of how those people loved his tree.
And as the years continue to pass, that old oak tree will last
Still standing proud and tall, remembering secrets of the past.

Copyright © 2007 Sylvia All Rights Reserved

(NOTE: This was written as a result of a challenge by my teacher and the first verse was written by them. The remainder of the poem, I wrote.)