It’s not the trees that age, but the human thought that grows older.
The branches do not seek, but reach indeed
And the roots do not lament what’s lost beneath.
The truth untold does not dismay a mind content,
The lies have slipped your tongue with no displayed consent.
A human dies, the tree remains,
The soils unveil all sanguine cherish,
And no one but a tree remembers
What’s known, what’s built, what’s left to perish.
THE TREE OF LIFE
© Copyright: Лидия Сидоренко, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121020200383
Свидетельство о публикации №121020200383
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