The winds may howl, the skies may weep,
The earth may shake, the dark may creep.
Yet trees stand tall through storm and chill,
With roots of fire, unbroken will.
They shed their gold, their crimson crown,
Yet never beg, nor bow, nor frown.
For though the frost may bite their skin,
They know the sun will rise again.
Oh, lose it all! Let tempests rage!
Your heart’s a book—turn one more page.
Like trees, you’ll bloom, you’ll rise anew,
With bolder dreams and skies more blue!
Md Nasim Akhtar Shamsi
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