The tree outside my window
stands in the same place
slowly growing stilly
stretching towards to the sun
seemingly miles tall,
yet started out so small.
This giant towering above me
shaped itself out of a tiny seed
that is dwarfed by the palm of my hand.
Day by day,
Soaked in rain,
I watch it rising slowly over time
wavering in the breeze,
still rooted securely into the ground.
The trunk is thicker than than the whole of my arms around it,
bark bearing scars,
a secret history.
I know if I were to cut it open,
the inside will reveal neatly concentric rings.
Now it's cold
naked branches shiver without their leaves.
it stands before me exposed and barren,
Will you still stand when I rest