Branches torn from the tree,
Gone on the path of their destiny ,
The trunk remains on its own,
Years are shown by the rings that grow,
Through the seasons the tree does stand,
Strong after weathering the storm,
The bark is scarred where the branches broke,
A memory of what was lost,
In summer time the tree does bloom,
With leaves of green,
How they shine,
Attracting birds with its grace,
A loyal and trusted resting place,
In autumns fall,
Some leaves do shed,
Like falling tears,
The tree lay bare,
An image of that lonesome tree,
Magnificent in its beauty
The Ancient English Oak it truly be,
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