A Palm Tree in the Fall

If I were further north, I’d experience the seasons of life
My leaves falling out like strands of hair
A middle aged descent toward winter death
But I am down here near the equator
I know no seasons of life, my leaves do not wither and depart
they stays strong and green, eternally young

To be a tree up north what would that be?
While my life is stable and I am the Peter Pan of trees,
I do not rise again as a phoenix in spring
I cannot experience each season of life and death
There is no resurrection for me
Every day and season the same as that which came before

But I do not worry about the coming winter
For I am a palm tree in the fall

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