Tree and MebyZeckBock©
Outside my kitchen window
stands a tree so big and tall
squirrels dance upon his bark,
on limbs the cardinals call.
I visit him each morning
just before the sun would rise.
Dew worms blanket sleeping grass,
through leaves a dawn wind sighs.
Already old when I was born,
he's been a constant friend
and turned to Roman pillar once
when I would play pretend.
He'd seen my little ones first steps,
a man land on the moon.
The Cold War didn't interest him,
to change he'd been immune.
As death draws near to take my hand
I'm glad I've had this chance
to proudly live beside my tree
where still the squirrels dance.