Title: The old oak tree
by Amy | in writing, poetry
I walk the rugged hills that leave
Impressions on my mind,
I follow many paths that weave
Through thoughts I'd rather leave behind
But every time temptation seeks
To wash good plans away,
For it takes me along the same old path
That leads to the place we sat that day.
Nothing changed. Still just as perfect
Beneath that old oak tree.
And now I wouldn't change a thing,
But the empty space I see.
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