My Acacia Tree

As the soft, comforting breeze blows,

Through her long, paperbark arms, 

I am sent a message of warmth and welcome.

Her small, green leaves slowly waft down,

Landing on the smooth, cinnamony dirt.

Her leaves show me the stories of her past.

Long, sorrowful days alone. 

Nothing but open plains,

And long, regretful memories.

Her guilt and past bleeding through,

Showing herself what she wants the least.

Days upon days alone. Nothing but the open plains.

As I climb higher 

I feel her heart throbbing pain and guilt,

She has been longing to release.

She’s strong though,

She’s holding it in,

But I feel her deep, hard pain.

She’s getting older now,

But her strong trunk and deep heart holds on.