Poetry

The life source,
My roots have been upturned
The dirt is scattered everywhere,
I thought I would have learned
My stalks that stood so proud and tall,
Have all been chopped down
The leaves that once sung in the breeze
Now lay fallen, not making a sound
But I'm slowly re-growing,
My pain, I'm not showing,
And the wind may be blowing,
But this boat, I'll keep rowing
Til the vines have climbed high,
And they reach into the sky
Only then will I sigh,
And beg to question why
Would I bring back something that was dead.