The Oak Tree's Witness Poem by Micronjan Ivers

I was but a seed, a tiny acorn curled,
Nestled in the earth, dreaming of the world.
Rain kissed me awake, sun pulled me high,
I stretched my first leaves toward the sky.

Seasons spun their endless round,
My roots dug deep into sacred ground.
I grew strong, my branches wide,
A quiet guardian of life outside.

Centuries passed, I watched it all:
Children laughing, markets, the rise and fall.
Horses and carts gave way to cars,
Smoke-streaked skies and distant stars.

Airplanes hummed across my gaze,
Skyscrapers rose in a modern maze.
Generations came, generations went,
Each leaving marks, their lives unbent.

I've seen wars, I've seen peace,
Empires crumble, new hopes increase.
Yet I remain, steadfast, slow,
A silent witness to all below.

Leaves may wither, and bark may scar,
But I remember every era, near and far.
For I am the oak, old and wise,
Rooted in earth, reaching the skies.