My branches are the dendrites which extend up and down
Some broken, some withered, some discolored and cracked. But I stand with as much pride as my roots will allow.
I'm stuck in one place, my beginnings planted in one location
My color, brown and even. My skin, rough, dry, and malnourished. The steady rain and whip lashing wind stunt my achievement of self-love. Appreciation and esteem. My branches are always covered with multi-colored leaves.
Exotic colors that I hope altar one's impression of me.
My color is hard to disguise, it lingers at the tip of every branch but not the tip of my leaves. I honestly wish I fit in with all the others, but at the time I wish to stand alone.
I'm surrounded by the tallest, most prodigious deciduous leaders who definitely stand for something, but fall for anything. Desperate to impress the doubters, but I stand alone.
The birds flutter above my head in triangles. I'm the shortest one of all. I stand alone and stand out for I am different from my kind. "We share our history, our form, our roots, and our color.
It's natural and becoming quite common for us to be appreciated. Our worth, upgraded and our confidence went as well feels so good to be noticed, smiled at and acknowledged by the complete opposite.
My leaves are the "tourist attraction" and my color, an added incentive to pay attention.
Many say the beauty was unexpected, caught them off guard and so forth. I knew it was always there. I love the triumph, the victory in itself, of proving to the world that I'm not just a tree. I am a work of art created by nature. My beauty resides within, where the truth of my mystery lies. I am filled with such greatness, my makeup is breathtaking and most of all, I have purpose.
Regardless of my shape, my skin color, or where I am planted, I have meaning. Although my branches may be chipped, twisted, and distraught; my leaves will always remain.
No one can take them away from me.
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