The rich, and the tree.

Background: Nothing special provoked me to write this, one of my random ideas. This poem is in the form of the thoughts of a tree which grew in a barren desert as the savior of a man.

Stranded was he in this barren land,
He saw me not,
and he lay in the sand,
and about life he thought.

And at night he slept,
I watched him all night,
by the thought of death he wept,
and I grew with great might.

The stars shone on his calm sleeping face,
my soft rustle awakened his green eyes,
on the plush soil lay his gold case,
useless in this barren land under the skies.

He looked up at the mighty sapling,
Green leaves he saw,
so he was done napping,
and he looked at me with awe.




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