Post by Morreion on May 2, 2010 9:58:14 GMT -5
In a quiet glade warmed by dappled light,
there grows ancient an oak.
Soft is its voice within the whisper of leaves,
finding no need to raise or shout.
Through troubled storms it endured and stood
roots deep in the earth of kinship.
Boughs reaching high with no guide they grow,
sheltering all who seek it.
While around the ageless bark a circle,
reflecting passing friends returning.
Through troubled storms it endured and stood,
roots deep in the earth of kinship.
-Elethea
there grows ancient an oak.
Soft is its voice within the whisper of leaves,
finding no need to raise or shout.
Through troubled storms it endured and stood
roots deep in the earth of kinship.
Boughs reaching high with no guide they grow,
sheltering all who seek it.
While around the ageless bark a circle,
reflecting passing friends returning.
Through troubled storms it endured and stood,
roots deep in the earth of kinship.
-Elethea
