She is the prettiest thing
I have ever seen yet!
In the wee silent hours of morning,
and subtle evenings
when the moon shines bright upon a clear sky,
Betty stands there like an angel,
dressed in wisdom,
Betty is more than a tree,
she stands in awe of the turmoil her world has had to go through,
she witnessed it all.
Her bark is wrinkled with tales of the past,
her branches strong enough and perfectly aligned,
to lay across the leafs in holy, mighty canopy,
her roots run deeper than anything I have ever seen,
holding her magnificence holy onto her ground,
I long to touch her again,
feel her unique energy.
It’s romantic how she communicates with the wind,
like secret love letters,
they reach out to one another.
Betty should be free,
free for admirers like me to touch her whenever,
spend time in the embrace of her shade whenever,
but she is chained within the walls of another man’s property.
I touched her ones,
the gate was left open,
in the wee hours of morning one has the courage to defy rules,
she is worth it.
I longed to be near her this morning,
oh how the presence of the moon and the stars
made it easier for me to just walk past you.
Betty is special,
she may be just a tree,
but she’s different.
the layout of her existence,
holds secrets so deep,
memories so real,
tales so surreal.
She isn’t just a tree,
she is a symbol of beauty and resilience,
silence and solitude,
peace and dignity,
courage and perseverance,
and I call her,