Olive Tree Poem by Angie M..

Olive Tree



Sometimes she comes to sit
where silence is generous and
the memories lightly brush by.
This is all that matters now.
I watch her gaze out from under the branches,
and she doesn't ask.
Soon she will confide through giggles,
and glances, a calm voice we share,
as she is certain in her offerings
and sometimes now, as we peek out,
we see a curious being, peeking in.
Sometimes she comes to sit
where silence is generous and
the memories extend,
and now, she too,
will wrap with her arms,
as we pass by.

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