What Tree?

One day I said to her,
"My love is like that tree,
With roots that,
Though you cannot see,
Reach deep into my soul."
Yet quizzically she asked of me,
"What tree?"

So then I spoke again to her,
"My love is as that tree,
With branches that,
Through all the seasons,
Reach proudly to the heavens."
Yet once more she asked of me,
"What tree?"

Determined, I said at last to her,
"My love is like that tree,
Whose sturdy trunk,
Upon which you lean,
Shall give but never break."
Yet with glowing eyes she asked of me,
"What tree?

There is no tree,
boy, don't you see?
I lean upon your love.
I need no object to represent
the way you feel for me."
And finally I asked of her,
"What tree?"

- Wade B.