Weathered Branches
Time is a friend to all
It moves and knows not to stop
It’s always passing by, the still solemn tree
It passes if the tree is bound or set free
It passes if the tree stands or gets the chop
Through winter snow, spring rain, and orange fall
Flowers blossom at its feet
The wind pushes through the leaves a peaceful flow
The petals form a vibrant sheet
Disturbed by no subterfuge or crow
Though seasons longs, flowers lives are fleet
And by color and by time their age begins to show
But not the tree, its heeds not times caveat
It lingers and stays in the status quo
The tree stands hard inside and out
Seasons strip its leaves
The tree rustles, lets out a shout
To keep them all, the branch heaves
Then laments and stands sad at what it is now without
Winter comes and its cold grasp, her thieves
The tree can only hope its phoenix children sprout
Time restores the tree and is always by its side
Season come and go and the two it tries to pry
But paradox brothers, time and the tree
In constant motion and stalled tranquility
The tree does not listen to seasons the seasons chide
Though leaves may pass, time does not say goodbye
It understands and moves and lets the static one be
And by their friendship, the seasons see their futility
