The Old Oak Tree

A poem about the old oak tree

The sun sets low 

I watch as the summer's dying.

Down the coast,

The laughter disappears by timming 

Back at home,

There stood an old oak tree

That watched me grow.

Seasons passed like lighting,

Till I'm on my own.

Footprints run deep

Beneath it's branches,

Stood there, so brave

Watched as it all passes,

River flew beside, right past it ,

Autumn blew so fast, warm till it lasted.

When the sun hits

Down home it dances,

'Forever' trapped in shadows 

Of it's branches 

Author's Note

Wrote this to come out of my writers block, so not my best work. But I'm open to any thoughts.