The Tree

As withered leaves cracked in the wind,
shed themselves of precious life,
one noble tree stood the fury,
unmarred by hints of death.

One by one dropped to faded ground
dried by sun's exhausting heat,
rolling onward they left behind,
the foundation of their life.

And as that tree in silence watched
the offspring of its patient growth,
they crisply followed, in circular thrills
forgetting one whose comfort shared
and solemn life fulfilled.

Finally left to its own peace,
the tree faced fading sunset beams,
It's shadow, cold, outlining grace,
a promise, never to erase
its dignity, solid would remain.