Tree Story

If we were meant to be a tree

with roots we would be born.

We’d stand unmoving every night

and still be there at dawn.

We’d wear an ever changing face

as seasons come and go.

The Spring would wake us into life

after the Winter’s snow.

The Summer breeze would play around

and shake our leafy bowers;

Autumn passing through drops in

dripping with April showers…

Birds would nest, and take their rest

Inside our branches high

Some of us are rather small

While others touch the sky

The only ones to shake us from

That place in which we stand

To make a better life for him

The ever transient man

He cruelly rips us from our homes

To build his little towers

But what goes round will come again

We will reclaim what’s ours.