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My Tree Has a Name

by Grandma

When I first saw my tree in nineteen seventy
It was tall and spindly, not much strength.
But I could see the promise of a mighty oak.
In nineteen seventy-three, I claimed it for myself.
It grew and flourished.
Great strong branches stretched from its trunk.
Three boys climbed to the top, safe in its embrace.
In the years since I claimed that tree, its leaves
have come and gone.
Some branches have withered and fallen.
But this tree is mine.
Its roots are firmly planted.
The boys are now men,
But their children now vie for its attention.
My tree has a name.
Its name is Grandpa Harrold.

 

A house is not a home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body. Benjamin Franklin
Home is the nicest word there is. Laura Ingalls Wilder
If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere. Vincent Van Gogh