Do You Suppose A Tree Can Cry? Poem by Bruce Schwab

For many years I've watched it grow,
though years have flown the tree's grown slow.
And year by year events unfold,
and ring by ring a story's told.

When was knee high our life was good,
then all was well as well it should.
Fortune was ours we knew we could,
Is memory trapped inside the wood?

When was waist high by side we toil,
each to each continued loyal.
Side by side we both felt royal,
as roots dug deep into the soil.

When shoulder high my old pet died,
the tree to small for wind to sigh.
My loss felt great alone I cried,
does the tree somehow know this inside?

When heads high she lost belief,
her shining joy was just deceased.
Finding no way to quench her grief,
that fall the tree wept bright red leaves.

At roofs eave high our feelings score
a painful blow not felt before.
Paths together now less than more,
in looking up the tree has forked.

As the tree above the roof line grew,
if not us both at least I knew.
So sad to say our times were few,
on just one fork the morning dew.

The tree still grows against the sky,
as our once felt love shrinks and dies.
And tears flood out of both our eyes,
do you suppose a tree can cry?