For generation after generation it stood, way before the school was built or the playground was laid out around it. Under it’s bough’s children played, hiding their faces and counting or digging in the dirt around it’s flowing roots. Under it’s bough’s first kiss’s and other games were played by dirty faced moppet’s and golden haired girls, noses were bloodied, honor defended.
It was a wonderful listener! It heard their confessions and brought them comfort…
Indeed, It was a grand life!
Oh Great tree! I climbed up high to see,
what was out there just waiting for me.
you gave me hopes,
inspired my dreams,
and challenged me don’t you see?
So don’t cry at my passing…my life has run it’s course.
my roots still run deep in the soil.
As long as there’s children,
I’ll abide,with your acorn’s and mine.
Just like childhood, all things must pass…
yielding treasures,some rock and some glass
so life is a mystery, and so then are you
how they got there? we may never know…
This is the “picture” of the ring,