A Tree PoemA Poem by RelicThose mighty trees that spread their arms were once as tall as you. And none have felt the sweeping strokes of what a saw could do. Yet underneath those street-lined wings, resplendent in strong wood arise a row of rural homes where once their brothers stood. And though I'll bask in summer shade, I'll feel a tinge of guilt. We've lashed with hatchets many down to yield what we have built. "Quell those notions of demise," I hear an oak tree say. "Look around at what we've done and what you have today!" "The forceful sounds of violins, the sound of new guitars; the look and feel of brand-new books, the storage for memoirs." Perhaps you're right, old friendly oak, but this I strongly pray: that all the trees upon my block avoid the axe and stay.
© 2024 RelicAuthor's Note
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43 Reviews Added on March 1, 2020 Last Updated on November 9, 2024 Author
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