Tree

His hair hangs from his head and his face
Flying in the wind like a wild police chase
His hair is like cobwebs, all of them say
Flowing in the breeze all night and all day

He stands so still you barely notice he's there
The only thing that moves is his long, shaggy hair
He towers like a giant above all, to see
Over the heads of you and of me

His long spindly arms hang to the ground
Not a sigh he utters; he makes no sound
But when the wind becomes strong, he groans and he sways
He's older than us, quadruple our days

He is one, that who is not all hard to find
If you can't figure it out, search your mind
For he does not love in the deepest blue seas
But in the forests, home of the trees