My Tree

I look out my window and I see a tree. It's my tree. It grew from a little seed That my Uncle gave to me. He said that if I was lucky, It would grow into a tree that was taller than he. I was six when that happened. Now that I am older, I look out and see the tree that has been through everything with me. I swung on my first swing, I kissed my first love, In it, I even lost a little plastic ring That I got from a Gum-ball machine One time I fell Right off it's sturdy branches. But it wasn't any fault of the tree, For it was me who fell, Plunging so far down, It felt like I was falling to hell. Now I see that my tree is dying. The old tire lies rotting on the ground Since last spring. I find myself to blame and am realizing That it is every fault of mine That caused my tree to come to its time. Into the deep tundra called Winter I walk To be with my tree. I take the frost covered rope Of my childhood swing, And hang from my tree One last time.