Who do you admire, child?

I admire the trees.

The trees are a* what not a who, my dear.

That's only what you see...

I see the strength
Of the wood through the sorrow
Of the storm, how it rips them apart

I see them give
What the creatures would borrow,
While pain is all that's returned.

I see them cry
From the young man's knife,
Tears for the love it has learned

I see them fade
At the end of their life
As winter seeds ice in their heart

The trees soldier on, and the trees do endure, though life beats on for its way

They lose bits of themselves, and yet they march on

Ever in the light of day.