The Olive Tree

 I am like an old olive tree,
All that was, I was there to see,
Wrinkled, grooved, and scarred,
Over the years, my bark has gotten hard,
Weathering the storms, the sun, the cold,
Yet, still I stand, hardened, toughened, bold,
I can take it all bring it on,
From sunrise, to night, to dawn,
What does not kill me makes me strong,
Nothing to do with right or wrong,
Survival of the fittest, last man standing,
Unforgiving world, not very understanding,
Yet like an old olive tree,
Still productive as can be,
Well planted, my roots deep in the soil,
But don’t expect me to start leaking oil.
xox
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