Red coloured oak’s hugging the ground,
It’s body swings beyond the edge,
There something else by what it’s bound,
Which keeps him stable on the ledge.

Its heavy roots grasping the soil,
Its dancing leaves greeting the moon,
Its curly twigs covered with foil
That sparks a magic at the noon.

And what oak’s holding no one knows
For all the strangers it seems bizarre
The moment you take off its clothes
The more enchanted then you are.