The Oid Oak Tree Poem by Ella Rose

I whispered to the breeze,
"Don't make a mess out of me",
As the tiny leaves danced,
Falling off the old oak tree.

I heard him answer in chyme,
"All good things come in time,
Follow me to the sky",
So I got up and started to climb.

So I went up as far as I could,
For this was strong oak wood,
But my breath sped up,
And up there I just stood.

Too far to jump, too low to soar,
I thought I might explore,
Decided to take the scenic route,
And try harder than before.

See, I've been up that tree,
Too cloudy to really see,
I wanted to jump off,
Fly and be blissfully free.

So I shouted louder than silence,
I was searching for pure guidance,
I was too lost and too blind,
To feel the dramatic science.

Now it's just one foot down,
Try not to make a sound,
Do my very best,
To not fall on the ground.