You ask me if my eyes could,

perceive what my mind would see.

My answer is an example,

what really is a tree?

I see a strong warrior,

supreme in its domain,

standing sturdy and tall,

at eve came the rain.

Its bough bends with the storm,

arms outstreached way up high,

heavenly consolation,

white it towers towards they sky!

Its splendor is unchanging,

though the seasons pass it by.

Lovers of beauty see it only

world, when Autumn is nigh!

Yet, to build this fortress,

we need flowers each if its kind.

Roses, morningglories, carnations,

each its individual mind.

Roses beauty is unquestionable,

morningglories dqwn our day,

carnations in their purity,

chase many an ill away.

Some artist neve stare at art.

For trly one can only see,

as far as his mind will let him,

and this is his destiny!

So now dawn beckons us, 

as roses break into day,

and carnations match the clouds,

while chasing night away.

If you ask me this again,

this timewe will let it be,

some people see merely branches,

but people I see a tree!