I wish I were a tree.Tall. Strong. Abiding.Rooted in the spot I stand, impervious to lures that drag the transient here and there. Possessing neither a negligent ear nor a traitorous tongue that would only soak in and breath out rabid gossip. Able to endure fickle shifts in the wind and not bend. Lazing under the fierce sun, weariless, suffering no sweat or burn.Alive, sipping water, quietly providing.How I wish I were a tree.
-Richelle E. Goodrich
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