The Tree

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 08, 2019

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Submitted: January 08, 2019

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The Tree

On a distant hill, there stands a tree

A tree I call my own

And to this tree I often run

To hide me from the storm

The winds may roar, the rains may hail

But I am safe up here

Away from all the storm and gale

I shelter in its care

I come to it with broken heart

I come to it with grief

All my secrets it takes and hides

And gives to nobody

For my tree is all my own

And no one else may find it

It sits alone in solitude

With only me beside it

For it is hid inside my heart

Where no one else may follow

And in my heart I may find peace

Alone with all my sorrow


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