The Oak

The girl sat on a bench in the park watching the world go by,
off in the distance something kept catching her eye.
It was a warm summers day so it was quite difficult to see,
she could just make out somebody sat on a branch of a tree.
Intrigued she stood and strolled appearing not to notice or care,
the closer she got she realised it was a man sat up there.

The man paid no heed as the girl stopped and looked all around,
she pretended she was looking at all the things on the ground.
The man smiled to himself as he scribbled his notes,
of little verses and sketches mixed in with some quotes.
Then he saw in the distance cumulus clouds dark and grey,
and mused to himself that they were heading this way.

He said, curiosity wont kill you but it may soak you through,
she pretended to be startled but she instantly realised he knew,
she lowered her eyes and blushed deep inside as she spoke,
I was curious as to why someone would sit so high in an oak.
The man shrugged his shoulders and jumped from the bough,
this tree has seen wonders but keeps silent secrets somehow.

It showed me the storm that warned of heavy rainfall,
it shelters the birds and the insects, a home for us all.
It gave me these books and the fires that I light,
it gives me oxygen in daylight and whispers at night.

So I sit and I listen to all that it says,
and I probably will until the end of my days.