Silently, slowly
We reach with our leaves
Tall and green
They are what the world sees
Regards as beautiful
Showers with praises
But they are frivolous
Lacking all substance
Deep in our roots
Lies the truth
The real substance
The pure us
Out of sight
Unkown to any but ourselves
The leaves about us mean nothing
They can be large and green
Even when our true selves
Are small and shriveled
There is only one way
to really know us
Look past the leaves
Reach into the deep rich earth
And pluck us up
With a gentle caress.
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