Author's StoryIf you’re looking for my story here, There’s nothing special about me.My life is simple and austere: I spend my time beneath a tree. I don’t dream of having fame. I don’t care about glory.Only the tree knows my name And it also heard my story.From the tree I get all my powers. I trench my verse with sap of roots.Poems bloom like cherry flowers. I mend my hunger with its fruits.The tree just cut a limb to make this book. My words fall like leaves, a certain way.It hurts, but when I take a better look, My verse is full. The tree is gray.So… if you’re looking for my story here, There’s nothing special about me.My life is simple and austere: I spend time becoming a tree.When I’m troubled or I feel down, The tree blooms like in full spring.Then, it's my turn to wear the crown. I’m more spoiled than a king.I’m half enshrouded by cozy roots. Soft bark is growing on me.When I look down at my boots, My legs are circles of the tree.Then, we play by counting our wounds and scars. Every day we count them all.At night, our highest branch will grab some stars To heal the pain of our soul.So… if you’re looking for my story here, There’s nothing special about me.My life is simple and austere: I spend time being a tree.Read more about this authorRead less about this author