A trusty oak never fails to satisfy the search
for philosophical soundness within one's soul.
Branches so perfectly placed the seem to
represent a geometric phenomenon.
Bark so richly brown and sturdy you can't
help but run your curious hands over it.
Leaves such a sprightly effervescent brown
you wonder if they're even tangible.
I mus upon the thought of building my house,
under the speckled shade of my hearty oak tree.
But alas, duty calls,
and I'm pulled from my reverie.
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