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When young and dreaming minds are set to wander
Into distant and dancing planes
A rhythmic cadence does beckon
While the Earth yields to watch
As barefooted children play.

The tire swings again
Curious shadows linger  
Never too close
Never too far
A fulfilled existence to an unfulfilled world
A silent presence to an absentminded crowd
Accompanied by the laughter of barefooted children
As they play.

When innocent children grow old
And Innocence becomes Ignorance
Unburdened smiles are replaced with
Darkened spirits and carefully crafted words.
The past still remains present.
A mindful shield
Guiding a hollowed crowd
Absent imprints of the soles
Of barefooted children
Far too old to play.

Seconds begin to weather
Tender breaths are met with woeful groans
Hardened by the world
Agonized by joyful memories
Rotting from inside to out.
Alone.
Left to fall
Without any one to hear a sound.

Here lies a calm remembrance,
That while your melodies may become buried
Entombed by Concrete and Machine
When barefooted children turn
To heels and dress shoes and speech
The earth and roots will remain
Tattooed to the souls of our feet.
For the trees that watched as I grew up, and broke my falls when I climbed too high.
Maaz Dec 2018
Through eyes of dull green it sees,
Through deep brown bark it breathes;
A place of shelter it does render,
For those have become too tender.

Humans are not the only animals it aids,
For many boundless beings flock to its shade.
To the wise Old Oak tree all the animals go,
The place they hide from the wind that blows.

A habitat it does provide,
For a world that remains hidden from our eyes;
A world that will soon cease to exist,
which shall soon dissapate into a mist.

The sound of an axe swinging in the distance,
is the sound of another Old Oak being stripped from existence.
This Old Oak is now the last of its kind,
A species extinct thanks to the demand of the human mind.
A Tree
Maxim Keyfman Dec 2018
tea is like a candle on the table
and the table is like an oak hut

fireflies flash around me
outside the ice flying in the wings

03.12.18
Madison Nov 2018
I can feel your being
Slowly becoming entangled in mine
Like the roots of an oak
Stretching its limbs deep down
Into the earth's soil
The oak cannot survive
Without the soil
You have become my soil


and that terrifies me.
i am terrified.
D Letwixt Oct 2018
Raindrops from the old oak tree
Fall very slowly
And run down my cheek
Born of ironwood and oak -
raised amidst fields of gold,
though rust tried to take you hold,
You mold your self to diamond hope.
Tori Sep 2018
Even weeds bear beautiful blooms,
New and exciting, in colorful hues,
But the roots of an oak tree will withstand a tempest,
And each passing season,
Greater pleases the senses.
Emotions are great but they pass away, hold fast to that which grounds you.
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