I Am A Tree
As a wizened old tree, scarred and weathered,
by Gary Bryson
My roots go deep, I’m anchored and tethered.
To my patch of life, to my fate, my home,
No longer like young seeds who dream and roam.
Now comfort I find in my wooded lot,
This cool shaded glen that I call my spot.
Troubles and dangers have all passed by here,
Yet somehow my strength has grown through the years.
Steadfast I stand not in what I might be,
I believe in myself,
For I am a tree.