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I feel as if I were a tree

In an open field of wheat,

Wrinkled and aged and always free

To watch for visitors to meet.

I have seen things they don't know,

And I will teach them how.

So my visitor, though slow at first,

Will go away wiser now.

Oh yes, a tree gets lonely too

Sometimes when the sky is grey not blue

And the winter snow has stalled me

From telling stories, true.

A tree, though I may be,

I use this time to think

Of all the new things I might see

When comes the spring.

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