rot

In the shadows of the old oak tree

Where the sunlight splinters through the leaves

You said, there's beauty in decay

But I can't see it in these roots that fray

Watch it rot, watch it bleed

All the things we hold and need

Like the silence on the line where we used to call

I'm learning how to grow, but I can't recall

The whispers rise with the evening breeze

Old stories hang in the bark of trees