The Tree

Between the cross of different lives,
Planted a tree that sheltered them rich.
Roots were firmed to all the smiles
That gathered in pond within its reach

The fruit it bore fed each of them,
And plenty more who came along
Listening to wind, playing the game
That tagged them more ever so strong

At times advised to heed the needs
May ignore the golden fruit that fell
All the while knowing the seeds
Were enough to feed them all too well.

Long is lost those ways to bond
That tied too well yet felt so free
Thirsts were met from a single pond
Gathered to nurture the perfect tree

The pond now spills over with tears
The roots too weak to nourish the fruit
The whispers of the breeze appears
Like a sorrowed song from a broken flute

The lives that fed the tree so small,
Have walked away to plant anew,
Nevertheless the tree stands tall,
The path that left is still in view
Watching the path on winter or fall
Hoping if it would return at all

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