I love to watch,

The old oak tree.

And count the changes,

i can see.

In summer,leaves,

All green and gay.

Whisper gently,
"come and play"

Autumn comes,

The days grow cold.

The leaves the rustle,

"Now we are old"

Then winter's here,
The tree is bare.
The leaves have gone,
I don't know where.


But spring arrives,
I look and see.
Brand new buds,
On the old oak tree

^^

maple leaf....haha