Instead of being a tree
rooted in one place
watching life as it passes by
at an ever increasing pace,
I’d rather be a butterfly
drifting on the wind,
lightly touching down upon
a flower now and then.
Instead of being a tree
whose roots are buried deep,
I’d rather be a mockingbird
whose song’s not mine to keep.
Instead of being a tree
whose branches shed their gold,
I’d rather be a river,
winding, deep and cold.
Instead of being a tree
with winter branches stark,
I’d rather be a candle
to light you in the dark.
Instead of being a tree
Just blowing in the wind
I would rather be a fencepost
that you lean on now and then.
From my poetrybook “Reflections of a Poetrygirl” (Amazon)
Follow me on FB, Instagram, Twitter: WVPoetrygirl
Amazon: www.amazon.com/author/anitaelam
Poetry
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I enjoyed reading your piece. It seems rather simple on the surface, but when I started thinking about the words, I realized that there is a much deeper meaning. My favorite part is, “Instead of being a tree whose roots are buried deep, I’d rather be a mockingbird whose song’s not mine to keep.”
Thank you, Kendall!