Regal Lineage of Growth
Lines of distinction…of beauty…a lineage, in time,
as if they were the fingers of growth, slender yet knurled,
reaching upward, outward as a persons arms would be,
twisting, writhing and flailing in the winds of the years.
From a bud of a long time previous it sprouts in sunlight,
to drink of morning mist and bathe in evening drizzle of rain,
ever expanding always outward, to begin the same all over,
as the sun has warmth to spurn the growth again and again.
As children playing within the confines of their yard,
the bud tips twist in the wind, and next year they multiply,
to become a group of hardened and seasoned young sticks,
and on, and on the seasons go until all now become firm,
firm and many they support the structure of the entire growth,
for now a bud has matured to the beautiful limb of leaves.
Given time, it’s life will pass, beyond the realm of years meant,
old age will rob the youth of all, the span of bud be gone,
and skin of bark becomes thin and rough or missing some,
as old people grow more stately, so still the limb shall bloom.