Andrew and Alex

A great spring spirit, standing up high
Its hand holding up the house of my
Its roots trapped in the rock hard soil
No way to escape, except death
No place to go, except here
Its duty is to forever guard this seer
Unable to move, unable to speak
This spirit will stand forever at this peak
Sometimes he rattles, sometimes he shakes
Never could he be still and eat cakes
No friends, no family, no toys to play with
The duty of the spirit will forever be a myth
Uh.. Yeah.. I did horrible at this poem, I know