poetry #8

"Tell me
A story,"
The old
Wise tree
once said.

"I hunger
For words,
The deeper
The better,
Or perhaps

So simple
But sweet,
Will Satiate
My hunger."

The boy
None wise
Look up
And said:
"I am
Not wise
As you,
Nor knowledgeable
As they,

Would you
Be Kind
Tell me
Your name?"

Leaves fell,
Branches aged,
The tree
Though wise
Have forgot
His name.

"Give me,
A name,"
The old
Wise tree
Gently said,

"Would that
Be enough,
To satiate
Your hunger?"
Asked he.

"Pray tell
And hurry,
It's fine.
Hearing words
Is enough,
For me
To last
For more
Hundreds centuries
To come."

"Your name..."
The boy
Slowly whispers.
"is Promise."

One word,
To tell
a story.