If the mighty oak could speak the words
Of the times that it’s been tried,
It’d speak about growing roots
Instead of how it died.
It’d say that it was strong enough
And stood the test of time.
Instead of falling to the ground,
It stood and held its line.
It’d speak about lightning strikes
And wind that cracked its core.
Though the dirt had softened,
It stood and took some more.
Though the tree bares scars
Of the times that it’s been struck,
All the other trees around
Gazed in pure awestruck.
Its roots dug deep and powerful.
No way it’d hit the ground.
The story of the mighty oak
Is one that is profound.