The Old Grey Gum.

            

He holds his secret tight in his grip and will never let it go.

It has belonged to him for centuries now and he guards his secret well

His fingers twist and hold it tight, its precious lustre dull

It will never see the light of day, it belongs to him alone.

The old grey gum has seen it all from drought to pouring rains.

He has protected his treasure through fire and snow cradled in his arms.

There are many who have looked and searched but can never see so deep.

The old grey gum holds it safe and sound in the cool clean earth beneath.

It came to him millennia ago washed along in flood.

And once he had it in his steely grip he would never give it up.

Through countess years through boom and bust many have come and gone.

But the old grey gum stands silent still his treasure safe in his arms.

Some have come with pick and shovel some have come with Axe.

But never can they look beneath the old grey gums vast grip.

He grips the earth with roots of iron and rock and earth combined.

To hold the gold that all would seek until the end of time.