a poem about a tree, but I don't write poetry

I wish I could write poetry

I would have written a poem about this tree I see everyday. Old as life but still standing. Our history is written inside it as circles. Young lovers' secrets carved on its trunk. Extending it arms to everywhere, to the sky, to eternity. Shinning green when all that surround it is autumn. Branches almost touching the ground, 

As if it doesn't want to far apart from it's roots

As if it wants to comfort the golden dead leafs 

As if it is weeping the loss of the children of other trees

As if it is protecting the fallen from being forgotten 

As if it is a mother for all that is there 

As if it loves the land, we call homeland 

I wish I could write poetry

I would write a poem about this tree I know

Ahmad Baker 

PS: I chose not to take a picture of the said tree, because I wanted to paint it in words...