stewa2jm

30 years a tree grows. the bark grows thick and strong protecting as never before. the bloom ever more beautiful and bright with each passing year. memories, joyful and tearful, more plentiful than the sum of all leaves that have been shed to paint the landscape. yet never do the roots take hold. they nourish and feed and fuel, yes. yet when the wind blows, fear runs deep mocking the roots. the tree sways and threatens to tumble. the roots stretch and scratch and scrap. and tree it does grumble, "take hold, TAKE HOLD! Save me from this fright! Grab and grow deep! Hold me strong and true! settle in, settle in, settle i