Memory of a Tree

Not me. Memory is like the rings of a tree.
A tree so tall, it could never fall.
In a forest so deep, the flowers don’t weep.
The might of the oak, the bees don’t poke.
There is no sun, for a tree never runs.
The likes of one you have never seen. As this tree that I am is beyond being free.
Please proceed! I am the owner of this forest.
They are not a problem for you, trust me, I’m honest.
For what you see is also what you hear. But tell no one what you saw and that you were here.
Farewell.