Lean On Me
When I was still a tiny fir treeShallow-rooted, supple, thin;
Another young tree grew beside meAnd I thought it rude of him.
I needed space; refused to share -Why couldn't he just go away?
About his needs I did not care,But always wanted my own way.
Then one fateful day at dawnAs dew drops sparkled on my leaves,
I saw a doe and her young fawnApproaching our copse of trees.
A hoof crushed me as they went by;And I was broken; bent -
I offered up a silent cryBelieving that my life was spent.'Don't weep, brother;
I am here -Lean on me for I am strong','
Twas the voice of one so near;
The one I used to treat so wrong.
Many years have come and gone,And seasons good and ill;
If you should come upon some treesAnd notice one is bent,
Look closer and you might just seeIt's leaning on its friend.
~
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