A seed once planted, small and still,
Took root with patience, strength, and will.
Its tender stem, through sun and rain,
Grew upward, carrying joy and pain.

The trunk stands firm, both scarred and wise,
It whispers stories to the skies.
Each ring inside, a hidden year,
Of laughter, sorrow, love, and fear.

The branches stretch, both far and wide,
Some strong, some bending, side by side.
Boomers carved the first bold trails,
Through storms and change, through winds and gales.

Gen X grew limbs with quiet grace,
The middle child, a steady place.
They balanced roots with reaching high,
Their laughter echoing through the sky.

Millennials, with restless hands,
Built treehouses in shifting sands.
They dreamed of futures, bright and new,
Of justice, freedom, voices true.

Gen Z sprouted leaves that glow,
Digital blossoms, fast to grow.
They bend and sway, they dare to shout,
To question, challenge, figure out.

And Alpha buds, still soft, still green,
The youngest whispers yet unseen.
But every leaf, both old and new,
Draws strength from roots that still hold true.

So when you see this ancient tree,
Know every branch is family.
We stand together, intertwined,
A living map of humankind.            Generation Mingle