Tree

Once, I was a young sapling
With lots of energy,
But now, I'm worn timber,
A gnarled old tree,
With wood worms gnawing me,
Any rough storm
Can make me cease to be,
Still, I stretch my branches
High up in the sky
To search the heavens
And watch the clouds go by,
Wondering about trees and things,
The where, the how, the why
And what tomorrow brings.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2007 Alfred Charasz