tree, o, tree

Tree, Oh, Tree

I am an old tree and I live up a hill,
And I have a precious little wife who stands by me still;
And we thrive in autumn when the woods are gold,
And look forward to the days when all is cold.

We both have sturdy trunks, wrapped in coats of ivy,
I do look nice in mine, but I admire hers with envy;
Our branches are lifting, up to the sky so bright,
And mine can always hold hers, in the darkest of the night.

Come squirrels and children too! We are here for you to hang out,
And grasses to lie down and a broken house to scout;
Remembrance of past things, is recorded in our annual rings,
Yet time never makes your face so young, as our leaves in spring.

(picture by Yulushanren)