Sturdy as the mighty oak, I withstood
drought, deluge, dishevelment, deliverance
my once vibrant leaves became crisp,
shattered, scattered, veins crumbled, crumpled
all that was left ... gnarled old roughened bark
revitalized, I am now trod, that old tree,
sawed, sanded, slatted, varnished
to perfection, reflection of owner's pride,
care is given to keep me supple, strong ...
cover me not; let my beauty shine,
sparkle and please all who see me
In the vast oaken families of ancestors,
descendents, those yet to root, while
our beauty be ****** out of rich soil
to praise the God who created us
we joy in our present, treasure our past.
The idea of this poem was for a contest. I was given the colour of brown to write about.