An aged oak unfurled
Limbs wider than it is high
Burling scars from limbs torn
Twists and turns, lichen frosting
Dark limbs
Leaves of winter make a show
Leaves of fall crisp below
A labyrinth of imagination
Dragons roar
Elves speak
Spirits abode
Showers carefully listed in growth rings
Bright sunny days stored away
In the lines of wood
Secrets stored
Roaring time night and day.
All that is left are the burling knots
Worn in the wind
Like stairwell bannister knobs
Of a regal home
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