Pulling Roots

[Vistaldust]

"Pulling Roots"

I plowed and played in my home by the oaks;
how loved I was by the town and its folks.
I rooted my feet in the clay that made me,
and laid in the grass with leaves to shade me.

Tall I grew, like the dreams I nourished;
soon made plans which helped them to flourish.
Watching planes painting tails in the blue-lit sky,
soon I was waving my oaks goodbye.

I traveled the world, made my name known,
though my seeds were watered with care at home.
Fame came fast, like a summer storm,
but the me inside said "goodbye" with scorn.

Years passed by like a lonely moon;
I sat with fortune in a darkened room.
Cars and crowds made pavement sounds;
no trees for the dying in a brick-laid town.

Now I am old and the world has forgot
the splash I made when the flame was hot.
The oaks have fallen to the corporate axe.
You can never go home once you've turned your back.