Sown by the hands
of the brave and the good,
this tree proudly stands;
its armour, its wood.
Diverse in their direction
the leaves branch out.
As if harmoniously, in perfection
they gently sway about.
No stormy rain
dared dampen its might.
With every hurricane
it was ready to fight.
With roots anchored deep,
and nurtured by the soil.
To never fall, to never creep
whatever the turmoil.
Now independent and fully mature
'twas once a sapling, not long ago.
So to every admirer, I do implore
to let it prosper and let it grow.
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