In the distance, there is a cliff
I go there sometimes
To hang my toes off the edge
Maybe my legs; eat some lunch
Look out at everything

There's an old oak there
Half off the edge
It's roots are dug in pretty well
But that's only half
Others seem to keep growing
Seeking down, looking for soil
You can tell its alive

You can tell its strong
It seems to have this perspective
Probably from the view
But most of the cliff is gone
And it's still here

So I'll sit in its shade
Eat my lunch, take a nap
A gentle breeze tousles my hair
Like a lover's hand, finger's touch
But it's just a branch
The old oak's touch
Just the wind