ADAM’S TALE

My name is Adam. It  was far back in 1780 that my seeds touched the soft soil and I let my roots slowly penetrate it, marking it my home far from my Chinese homeland for centuries to come. At first I grew in the shadow of other trees around me, unnoticed in my modesty. But as years passed, I grew up to be much stronger, overgrowing my companions, amongst them my darling Eve who decided to devote her life to living in my shadow for as long as we’re together.My crown has gently brushed on her during strong winds and storms and protected her from curious

passers-by who have visited us since. And so many have.

I was there when the castle was built and the counts enjoyed my youth in their garden. My master knew I was the oldest tree species on Earth, which had existed for over 200 million years, so he planted me there trying to learn from me the secrets of life. But he moved on, as many others after him. And I stayed, softly burdened with bird nests and children trying to climb my limbs. Today I am the second oldest and largest of my kind in Europe. Over the years I’ve expanded in waste so my trunk is over seven meters in width. My darling Eve is still tall and slim, but she loves

me nevertheless. She loves when I’m in bloom in spring, dominating in summer, when I shed my golden leaves in autumn or wait patiently for a new beginning covered in snow. (story reading)

https://vocaroo.com/i/s1sHWjDLAIOl

 "Confession"

On the Łopuszańska land, native area,

In the woods, where the stones covered with green moss

they know the history, the fate of thousands of people.

They hide secrets, they remember how hot hearts

they gave a shot, life, last breath, on a cold, grave like a bold look.

Under this rock, a birch tall as a pole a cold corpse rests more than one hero.

In Ruda Zajączkowska at the Łosośna bank

there used to be a gentry court surrounded by a series of lindens.

Through his old oak thresholds

the writer Żeromski passed his legs.

This estate belonged to his aunt,

The "Faithful River" place of action became permanent,

Because here the wounded insurgent sought

and knocked on the manor in Niezdołach for help.

the above is my authorship, all rights reserved

Poinsettia, A Christmas Flower

                It was a cold day of winter, Christmas was coming. Poinsettia was watching people walking outside the flower store window. Its leaves had turned into a bright red. Its small wonderful flowers would soon appear. But poinsettia felt sad. It was jealous of the some other flowers in the shop. Poinsettia wished its own flowers also could see hot summer days. Feeling the warm yellow sun, watching the children dance without chill, the colors of the trees, sweet summer

 rains, the warm winds blowing... It wished its flowers could survive on summer. It was lost in thought. The store's door opened, and a young man showed the poinsettia. He said in a warmly voice, "I want to buy this poinsettia."

Poinsettia was excited to hear this lovely voice. Could this young man help poinsettia's flowers see the summer sun?

The man bought the poinsettia and took it home. It was so happy, all of the people in the house admired it, it felt really special. It was a part of a family.