THE TREES CAN HEAR

THE TREES CAN HEAR

The trees can hear,

Though they never speak,

They listen to the footsteps

Of the strong and the weak.

They hear the morning laughter,

The whispers of the night,

The little hopes we carry,

The battles kept from sight.

Beneath their ancient branches,

Many stories have been told,

Secrets wrapped in silence,

Dreams both young and old.

The trees have heard our crying,

When nobody seemed to care,

They watched the silent tears fall

And gently held the air.

They hear the lovers talking,

The children as they play,

The promises made at sunset,

Then forgotten the next day.

They hear the birds above them,

The rain upon their leaves,

The wind that comes with warnings,

And every heart that grieves.

A tree may look so quiet,

Standing firmly in one place,

But perhaps beneath its branches

It remembers every face.

So speak with care beneath it,

For silence isn't proof

That nobody is listening

When your words escape the roof.

Tell the tree your little secret,

Tell it what you cannot say,

Perhaps the rustling leaves will answer

In their quiet, gentle way.

For trees don't judge our stories,

They simply watch them grow,

Like patient, silent witnesses

To everything we know.

And when the world feels crowded,

And your heart needs somewhere near,

Find a tree and sit beneath it—

Remember, the trees can hear.