The Maple Tree

Is it possible

To take pride

In the accomplishments

Of someone

In whose creation

And molding

You took

Absolutely no part?

I wonder...

So many similarities

Do I see.

I know that

In a different life,

A different world,

I could have pushed

This child

In a swing

Attached to the branch

Of a maple tree

And watched her grow

Somewhat

Like myself,

And so much

Like the tree

As well.

So strong!

Always pushing,

Always daring

That swing

To take her

Ever higher.

Of course,

The real world intrudes.

It always does.

And she does perform

So admirably in it.

But still,

She strives

To play her own songs,

And succeeds!

And she inspires others

To find

Their own music

As well.

But lately,

I sense a weariness,

And it disturbs me.

I sense a fatigue

That cannot be allowed.

Perhaps if I'd been there

During her childhood,

In reality,

I'd have the right

To lend a hand now

And help,

If I could.

For this voice

Should never be stilled,

Even momentarily!

Not from without,

Nor,

God forbid,

From within.

Never from within.

*  *  *  *  *

Don't over-analyze this one too much, fellow babies. That can cause more trouble than it's worth. I oughtta know; I'm famous for doing that!

Thanks for your time.