Ancient One

The old oak tree, standing in my yard.

He watches over me, as a guardian

From outside my window.

Listening, and giving advice.

But mostly, listening.

Listening to the problems of a little girl

Who no one else wants to listen to.

A young toddler, then a child, then a teen.

Helping me along, when I need him.

The wise, elderly one

Who was always there

Waiting after school.

I tell him how my day was, about formidable teachers

And hard tests.

Almost like a grandfather, he scolds gently,

When I do wrong,

But always lovingly.

There for me,

To talk to, to depend on for support.

I laugh and play, as if my world will have

No end.

I lean against his trunk,

Climb his branches,

Out of breath,

I smile serenely,

Putting my cheek against his rough bark.

The wrinkles and creases

Showing his age and wisdom.

Now, I am older.

Old enough to take care of myself.

To depend on myself.

I don't need as much as I used to.

But, I return to see the old oak tree.

He is drifting away.

His gnarled branches, once filled

With the bright colors of autumn,

Are cold and bare.

He smiles at me gently.

It's time to say farewell.

I'll miss you.I say.

What will I do when you're gone?

Just one more time, let me lean against your trunk

And climb your branches.

Just spend with me, a little more time.

But he tells me, to grow up

And to live my life, without him.

Again, he away gently.

And I weep for him.