the copper beech tree,
rooted over the road,
seems ageless though it has been,
there since Grandfather Time,
came from some unknown place,
and implemented his power,
into the land.
the copper beech tree,
hangs over the road,
the branches move,
like a body of
fine hair in the wind,
to and fro to and fro to and fro.
the copper beech tree,
still over the road,
sees all walks of life,
the scolding tramp, the
busy mothers, the
mindless teens.
the copper beech tree,
watches us from over the road,
gazing into this silent home.
It knows, it realises,
It sees, it feels,
all the way down,
to its wise roots.