Roots Of A Tree Poem by Aaron Weaver

Where are my roots? My leaves grow my leaves blow where are my roots, I look at my many branches too find my roots. Why have I produced fruit where are my roots I look up and i look down where are my roots? I sway back forth in the harsh winds and sometime I even sing a song about finding my roots. Am I nourished in the rain or am I drowning, where are my roots? I look up and I look down where are my roots? Some people come too draw on me and sit under me for shade, children play games around me, I have even caught a Kite in my branch, I drop fruit too feed people miles around, where are my roots? I have housed birds and watched them grow to fly on their own, where are my roots? A season has changed and my leaves fall my body is barren without the lush of leaves oh how I missed the Spring and Summer, now that my leaves have fallen maybe now I can find my roots. I can barely remember when I was young and small, I remember producing fruit that everyone enjoys, I remember the season changes a seemingly never ending cycle. I suppose from my roots I was designed to nourish the world in which some people enjoy and even take for granted. I understand degrees of this purpose, though I yearned for my roots and maybe when the companies come to cut me down I shall return too my roots, when the big company men come too make paper out of my disposal I shall again see my roots.