The Grandfather Tree
I was only three years old, when they found me asleep in 
The folds of your roots already you hand rings so thick, 
That you bulged.
By the time I was five I could climb up the folds
 to your bottom branch.
Still thin, young in tree-age.
You became my fortress. 
Hidden among the leaves,
I peered at the world. sat with the birds,
Thought a bit.
You aged reaching for the sky
And I rose with you.
Reading in the crook of your bent arm.
Beaten by the wind  your bark peeled.
My own wounds less obvious healed.
I no longer climb to sit on high.
I rest below
Among the roots
For you to know.


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