The trees told stories
Stories of old
To Young visitors in search of gold
It was not the kind you would find in the ground
But the kind in the heart waiting to be found
The sun shone down upon their faces
and made the forest one of their favorite places
They listened to the trees rustle their leaves
And watched the grass writhe in the breeze
But soon no one came to visit these sages
And no longer heard what they learned through the ages
Now the wise Trees stand all by themselves
And I’m all alone with their stories to tell.
This poem was written by my 17 year old son, Zach. I think it is a great reminder that some of the younger generation still wants to hear the “stories”; to hear about our experiences. Let’s continue to pass on what we know, have heard and have learned.