Reblogging this poem because I can.

The Detective and The Case of the Missing Lol

Sometimes I like to sit
by an old old tree
and ask it what it knows
and if it knows me

Does it know my name
Has it seen me here around
Am I a whisper in its leaves
Before they fall onto the ground

Am I found among its rings
Am I carved along its side
Did I there make my marks
Or is this all too much pride

Does it see everything
Does it record all the pain
does it protect me always
when life brings the rain

Do its leaves tell the wind
all the secrets that I hold
can I hear that conversation
or am I being too bold

Do I owe it anything
for the shade that it gives
or am I deeply in its debt
for the length that I ‘ll live

Does it see my future
did it witness my past
does it…

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