The oak tree stands, full of life

And wonder, shooting up to the sky

Growing stronger each and everyday. 

She stands above all with her grace and beauty

For in her forest there is no match.

She has survived the hardest of times

For nothing can knock her down, 

Neither the wind nor the rain.

She knows only to heal not to hurt 

For she became the home to many.

Yet on this tree, grows a patch of ivy 

Completely dependent of its support. 

She became forced to share her strength, her wealth

But she did not mind, this generous mother.

She would allow the ivy to expand its vines

Giving it guidance to grow to the sky,

pushing it towards the stars.

How it needed her, how it was attached to her 

For she was its support, its shape, its foundation.

Proud she was to be the reason behind its glory,

Proud she was to see its splendor 

For she knew that her sacrifice led to its success. 

She lived on till the end of time

Though the ivy had covered much of her body,

But she did not mind, this caretaker,

For it was her care and support that guided this ivy to its glory.

She like all mother's put herself last

Allowing her creation to succeed.

And though she probably did hear it enough

She knew how thankful and gratified the ivy was,

And how much it loved her.