The Old Tree

In my adulthood

I passed by the tree

Well known to me

In my childhood.

 

 

It stands by a path

Where many have passed

That old tree

Without a glance or sigh.

 

 

Our lives move fast

As we rush to catch

Some form of transport.

And we all are caught

In time’s great web.

 

 

All our loves and lusts

Must turn to dust.

And even this great tree,

Which will outlast me,

Will be dead