Alone it stands,
Once more.
Not a chance.
Not a choice.
Branches reaching for the moon and stars.
Roots sinking to the earth's core.
A breeze may alter it's appearence.
Force it to to sway.
But it's branches still stretch out,
And it's roots still sink deep.
People may pass and sigh.
They see others just like it.
Alone.
Not a chance.
Not a choice.
But it knows it's unique and alone.
And is happy.
For though it's alone,
Not another like it,
It is loved.
And has the knowledge of love.
Everyday before the morning dew is gone,
and the day is still crisp,
The children come and climb it's branches.
Stretching to the moon and stars.
Every night before the air is lonely,
The lovers come and sit beneath it.
Above the roots.
Sinking to the earths core.
Still it knows,
Alone,
It truely stands,
Once more,
Not a choice.
Not a chance.
Happy.