She stands alone, both tall and true.
The perfect picture of solitude.
The soul of a woman encased in bark.
With limbs that move in a majestic arc.
Alone she’s faced the storm of life.
The wind and rain, disease and strike.
Others gave up but no, not she.
And there she stands for all to see.
She’s had her share of troubles and woes.
But she made it through and still she grows.
Like her I too know grief and pain.
I’ve faced the wind, I’ve felt the rain.
And like her too, I still stand tall.
It may throw punches, I may take a blow.
But in the end I too shall grow.
Each storm I weather increases my strength.
And beneath this skin, my soul’s to thank.
The elm and I, we know what to do.
We count on ourselves, and make it through.