Warped are the roots, yet tall’s the old tree,
What hides beneath the surface is strength, you see.
Stronger with age, finds growth through the muck,
The path of each finger searching sustenance, not luck.
It either moves or it crushes some rocks in their way,
Or it tunnels around, finds other places to stay.
The tree trusts in its roots as they move at snails pace,
It’s not a competition, a judgement, or race.
Limbs grow tall, stretch out find potential,
The sun as their guide, giving love, shining light.
The journey’s individualized, beautiful, unique,
So trust in your roots… be strong, be the tree.