In the old forest stood a tree,
And many seasons it had seen,
The shine of summer and the love of spring,
The chill of winter and all those wet winds.
And happy it stood through all the ages,
And wise he thought, all he had seen,
His peeling bark,
Was the wisdom it deemed?
But one day two sparrows perched on its branch,
And a little home they built,
Of grass and twigs and two little eggs,
Joyful they seemed.
The change of moon,
And seasons spent,
The hatch of eggs,
And soon wings beget.
On the old oak,
Many a summer the birds drew,
As their fledglings flocked,
They built another nest anew.
And all this the oak watched,
One with these sparrows,
Home for them,
Not just a tree.
Oh, how much joy,
In these small things,
no glory or pride,
Just love in hearts reside.
Together in the darkest of rains,
One in sunshine,
No solitary pain,
The sparrows’ strength.
From acorn to tree,
In a century,
The oak had never seen,
Love so profound.
Many a birds had built nests,
But he always knew,
Just a stop on a long journey,
For these birds always flew.
Come back they never would,
Unlike these sparrows,
Who perched on his branches,
And old they grew.
As age turned for one to many,
The eggs would not come,
But the birds stayed still,
From old things into new.
At last came a day,
No morning for one of the pair,
The other flew into sunshine,
Waiting for its love to join in the gail.
It fluttered and flapped,
Bidding for a chirp,
From its love,
In vain, in vain.
Exhausted, the bird flew,
Back into the nest
And one last breath it drew.
On the old oak tree.
And then thundered a gale,
Came from the skies,
It shook the three,
With all its might.
The nest of love,
Fell to the earth,
Mixed with the mud,
And swept by the water.
All this the oak watched,
Through his own grief and pain,
A new lesson came,
Of death and love.
Journeys begin when lovers meet,
Transcend in death and beyond,
Love is so powerful,
Even in death it is found.
And so the old tree,
Stood there and witnessed time,
And never again of wisdom,
Its leaves sang.
And many seasons it had seen,
The shine of summer and the love of spring,
The chill of winter and all those wet winds.
And happy it stood through all the ages,
And wise he thought, all he had seen,
His peeling bark,
Was the wisdom it deemed?
But one day two sparrows perched on its branch,
And a little home they built,
Of grass and twigs and two little eggs,
Joyful they seemed.
The change of moon,
And seasons spent,
The hatch of eggs,
And soon wings beget.
On the old oak,
Many a summer the birds drew,
As their fledglings flocked,
They built another nest anew.
And all this the oak watched,
One with these sparrows,
Home for them,
Not just a tree.
Oh, how much joy,
In these small things,
no glory or pride,
Just love in hearts reside.
Together in the darkest of rains,
One in sunshine,
No solitary pain,
The sparrows’ strength.
From acorn to tree,
In a century,
The oak had never seen,
Love so profound.
Many a birds had built nests,
But he always knew,
Just a stop on a long journey,
For these birds always flew.
Come back they never would,
Unlike these sparrows,
Who perched on his branches,
And old they grew.
As age turned for one to many,
The eggs would not come,
But the birds stayed still,
From old things into new.
At last came a day,
No morning for one of the pair,
The other flew into sunshine,
Waiting for its love to join in the gail.
It fluttered and flapped,
Bidding for a chirp,
From its love,
In vain, in vain.
Exhausted, the bird flew,
Back into the nest
And one last breath it drew.
On the old oak tree.
And then thundered a gale,
Came from the skies,
It shook the three,
With all its might.
The nest of love,
Fell to the earth,
Mixed with the mud,
And swept by the water.
All this the oak watched,
Through his own grief and pain,
A new lesson came,
Of death and love.
Journeys begin when lovers meet,
Transcend in death and beyond,
Love is so powerful,
Even in death it is found.
And so the old tree,
Stood there and witnessed time,
And never again of wisdom,
Its leaves sang.
