Trees die standing tall – poem

Trees die standing tall,

enduring weather, breathing in

the happiness they shelter

under their selfless leaves.


They branch their perennial dreams

by resigning their otherworldly ambition

to quietly nurse into freedom

the wild creatures they love.


Happiness is in giving, they know;

to receive, like an empty vessel,

only leads to greed and suffering,

but trees are rooted in hope.


That’s why they stand tall.



I'm a writer born in Argentina, but currently living in Poland. I work as an English and French teacher, translator and copywriter.

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