The Old Oak

You seem barely alive with your hollowed out trunk

You can't stand up straight, are diminished and shrunk

Anorexic branches, blackened and gnarled

Twisted and reaching like the arms of a child

Unadorned for so long, you seem withered and torn

Your all-seeing eyes view new saplings with scorn

As your roots reach and feel for a foothold below

You lament what has gone but are desperate to grow

You seem barely alive, but you have a strong heart

Just awaiting the springtime for life to restart