A tree grows,
From my hopes,
My dreams,
My wishes.
My fears, are the leaves;
Sometimes they are there,
Other times they fall
To reveal my strong sturdy branches.
The color of my branches, it shows.
It may not be pretty
But,
It is there,
It is bold.
It made the choice to be just that.
And as we drift from our families
And become the stars that surround our tree
Standing on our own
Closing in on the Moon
The world opens for us in a whole new way.
And
We can be,
Ourselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you, It reflects my own as well.