In the crisp summer air, I was set free.

No longer couped up by the freezing winter.

In my very backyard sat a tree,

one almost as tall as me.

I was small, fragile, and curious,

wishing to grow and do more.

Yet, it never crossed my mind

that me and the tree would do so.

Comparison of a child to a tree is strange,

but I’ve always believed that the tree and I were the same.

I do not recall when it was planted or how long since,

but we were both “small” and grew into it.

We both grew into our duties.

The tree into a provider of fruit every fall,

and me a measly student trying to learn it all.

We both had our jobs in life, and it was nice.

Till this very day,

I’d like to think we’re the same age.

Its leaves would shed during the winter,

and my style would change.

It was me in a different way.

As a teenager now, I’m still growing

with both my knowledge and physique.

Yet, it’s been a while since the tree grew,

but its still branches reach up as if they could give me the moon.

Writing a “poem” about a tree is also strange,

But the tree reminds me that nature has its ways.

That nature isn’t much different from us all.

A measly sprout could be just like a baby now.