  The oak tree on the hill what wonders it’s heard from far and near The words of love like wings of a bird flutter and take flight But the words of hatred in the soul are mirrored forever to endure The whispers of souls just born and words of souls long gone The oak tree on the hill the branches stirred by breezes of a spoken word Copyright 2000 TMD I'm trying to change a few things in this poem. But I haven't figured out what needs changed. 
