My branches sway, creaking with age.
Rooted, watching brothers fall
and rise anew.
A solemn figure sits below,
waiting, shrouded in sorrow;
ancient regrets lay buried
in his lonesome frown.

My rough bark; smoothed
from gentle wear.
His rickety back untroubled;
fitting, as he silently rests,
with coltish squirrels, dancing
carelessly about his feet.

I crane towards the sun, stretching
my twigs like knotted wooden fingers.
Alike we linger, forevermore.
Knowing only each other, kinsmen;
waiting beneath the twilight.
Secrets held between us,
from distant past.

My planter and carer,
cloaked, beneath flowing robes,
I shall protect; until
my oak trunk crumbles.
To gradually rot; feeding
brothers unravelling roots.