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A Tree
Although I grew up on a dry, infertile soil
I thank the 'Gardeners' by whose means I was sown
Shielded me from the heat, guarded against storms
And tended me until into a 'Tree' I've grown
Into a 'Tree' I've grown although not big and strong
The 'Fruits' I bore were sweet, pleasant to everyone
Did not leave a bad taste on other people's tongue
The leaves I wore were scant but provided a shade
To those who were weary and those who seeked relief
In my own little way, comfort to them I gave
Now I'm old and sapless, the leaves I had were gone
My branches and twigs dry, stretched towards the sun
Begging that I once more be given strength and life
So I'll be again of whatever worth I might
poem
by
Pacific Hernandez
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