Locket







 My oak tree wears a bird house,

Like a locket on his limbs.

He loves to hold the birds,

They always sings to him.

 

He sways in time to the songs of the sky,

He imagines travelling  over the  land.

But he is rooted to the earth,

For an oak tree must forever stand.

 

Birds sing worldly melodies,

As long as  he is lightless.

Oak will never leave his place,

He holds his locket near his heart. 

                                                       ~Dpansa

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