All my leaves are gone
I have nothing to hide.
Bearing my naked arms for all to see
I rest in the cool, gray winter day.
You love my smooth bark
as a child you admired my colors
and felt my rough patches.
I have watched you grow
as you, I
the constant backdrop.
Champion of trees
you worried about my baby leaves.
You saw the love inside yourself
when he spoke of my pattern
first to leaf out, first to drop.
Rough, smooth
everywhere you see the paradox
it is now the lens by which you see the world.
More than a tree
more than a friend
now you call me teacher.
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