An oak tree and a rose bush grew young and green together,
Talking the talk of growing things; wind and water and weather.
And while the rose bush sweetly bloomed, the oak tree grew so high,
That now it spoke of newer things; eagles, mountain peaks, and sky.
"I guess you think you're pretty great," the rose was heard to cry,
Screaming as loud as it possibly could to the tree top in the sky.
"And you have no time for flower talk now that you've grown so tall."
"It's not so much that I've gown," said the tree,
"It's just that you've stayed so small."
