WHOSE JOY HAD COME TOO LATE
The old oak tree behind the gate,|
Stands proud while shedding leaves.
She's seen her share of troubled souls,
While sadness formed the breeze.
The tears that streaked a lovers' cheek,
Was witnessed with a sigh.
She often wondered what was wrong...
And why the person cried.
Oh how she tried to comfort those,
Whose pain was plain to see.
And how she longed to comfort them,
To cause their pain to flee.
But she was just the 'old oak tree'
That stood behind the gate.
She had no words to offer those,
Whose joy had come too late.
The NO FRILLS CHALLENGE
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