With standing pride quartered,
My limbs rest in shade, no longer
As nature intended yet roots are grounded, safe, intact.
With horizontal definition,
A heart in conflict with a crown,
Imperfections become an art, bolts replace
Knots and bark
Quietens to a satin glow.
I cannot read, but I hear
Passers- by tell the brass tattooed testament of
Why I am.
A new found form, with
Witnessing society’s recreational regression,
On what was
And what is now.
I too am resting
Not in one place, but two.
The old generation. Far removed
From forests girth I am
Watching, waiting for springs
Immortal re- birth: earths contract commissioned
By an early empire,
Proven by time
Envied by all.