Roots
When I was just a sprout,
I saw a baby and their family
and witnessed as they took their
first steps through an
open field.
When I was a sapling,
I heard the child’s laughter
as it echoed through the
growing plants.
When I was tall and strong,
The baby turned into a teenager
and carved into my side
with the saplings surrounding
their feet.
When my rings grew too many,
they came back with their
children, who climbed on my
limbs, looking over the
trees below.
When I was cut down,
they would take pictures of their
grandchildren sitting on
my stump, with the forrest as
their background.
When I returned brand new,
only the children and grandchildren
visited me, they sat on my
flat surface and talked about stories
I had witnessed there.
When my nails grew rusty and wood grew mold,
people stopped bringing flowers
and the field had become filled with too
many trees, a worn down bench, and an
abandoned grave stone.
-savvy.b