In the dry red countryside stands a lonesome tree
It towers high above the landscape
Proud she is, like her crown,
Which fans out like fingers
Galah’s and Cockatoos shriek loudly
and in the shadows at her feet
lounge away some Kangaroos
She blossoms and grows,
She leans with the wind
Sometimes it loses leaves
Its flowers make seeds.
If a storm knocked her down
Her memory will always remain
Because there will be new trees growing,
But never as beautiful and
gifted as she was…
MiekeMinkjan April 2011