With arms outstretched I welcome them all,
That glide and hide, scurry and crawl
On my crusty bark and tender leaves,
Under my quenching shade and relaxing breeze.
Although my core is old and stone
And I have lost the beauty for which I was sown
I am still firmly rooted and proud
To play host to this lively crowd.
I love the songs they sing with ease,
That draw admirers to them and me
And how they transform my hollowed wounds
Into aqueducts of warmth without a clue.
As leaves fall and layer the ground on which you walk
I know with every look and flash you sulk
How unmoved I am by the company of others
I carry all in their changing colours.