OAK:

When you are weary of your non-belonging,

Maybe accused unjustly of untrue wronging,

Come into my arms & you, I shall embrace,

Beneath my branches, haven for all displaced.

When the tears on your cheeks begin to freeze,

Come to me; let me fan them dry with my leaves,

And I shall relate to you, old stories & ancient tales,

Of magical little folk, wise owls & wee golden snails.

When you need an ear, a good friend to heed & listen,

Tell the dewdrops upon my leaves, that shine & glisten,

So just let go of all your woes & your sorry sad telling,

I shall perfume you, with fresh green forest smelling.

I know that I may just be an old forgotten tree to you,

Of rugged rough bark & branches, hiding sky of blue,

But I shall embrace you & remove all your sad tears,

I´m an ancient oak tree, removing pain of passing years.