My Oak

She was a sapling once,
A sprout from good soil.
Growth is natural but not easy.
Others nearby draw from the same ground.
Some were taller, some stronger.
So shadows fell her way,
Sunlight occasionally found her,
Rain and nutrients, what were spared.
Hers was the quiet, the shade,
There she dwelled peacefully.
She cared not to stretch to the sky
So much as to nourish the earth.
Fruitful, colorful, lean, strong.
A place to lie safely and gently,
A playmate of imagination and style.
Yielding to the wind with graceful sway,
Yet rooted unfailingly to the plot God gave her.
Where else would I gain a treasure
So humble, so boundless, so beautiful?
With me to eternity,
My oak, my baby, my joy, my wife.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DENA!!!