The Olive Tree
M
Mark Heathcote
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A bird flies toward the sky
leave this world and wave goodbye
take that olive branch from the tree
and soar as if the heavens meant-
nothing to you and me
my heart is like mercury watching you depart
it rises it inches, but it is tied-to-you
journeying over the sea
it builds like a luminous cloud
it grows into a tree
it's here I perch
no longer wishing,
'I am free.'
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