This old oak tree
Rests here beside me
Just like it would have
A thousand times ago
In my ancestors' home.
Above the lowlands
Among the highlands
The people who lived
Would sing and dance
And the old oak tree
Sprouted from lush green
Was a symbol of life
And strength.
Here it sits again
Their blood among it still
For beside me it is
And within me their blood.
The oak calls my attention
To its life and its strength
And as far as I can tell
This old oak has only moved
From one continent to the next
To be with my Celtic blood
And it should be clothed in the same bark
My family of a thousand times past
Once touched themselves
Among the highlands
Sprouted from the lush green
That that same old oak tree
Came from, before
Me.
YOU ARE READING
Shorts and Poetry
RandomJust random chapters or point of views from different movies or stories that already exist! Some poetry as well! Nothing is tied to the next chapter so read what you wish! I'll take suggestions for things to write!
