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Lean On Me

by Belinda van Rensburg

When I was yet a tiny fir tree
Shallow-rooted, supple, thin;
Another young tree grew beside me
And I thought it rude of him.

I needed space; refused to share -
Why couldn't he just go away?
About his needs I did not care,
But always wanted my own way.

Then one fateful day at dawn
As dew drops sparkled on my leaves,
I saw a doe and her young fawn
Approaching our copse of trees.

A hoof crushed me as they went by;
And I was broken; bent -
I offered up a silent cry
Believing that my life was spent.

"Don't weep, brother; I am here -
Lean on me for I am strong";
'Twas the voice of one so near;
The one I used to treat so wrong.

Many years have come and gone,
And seasons good and ill;
Though we have both grown tall and strong
I lean against him still.

If you should come upon some trees
And notice one is bent,
Look closer and you might just see
It's leaning on its friend.

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Please remember to mention the author of this poem when using.