I feel your pain,
You know I do;
Drenched with rain and
Scuffed with shoes.
You live here day
And dusk and night,
You love (but can’t express or say)
The sweet sunlight.
Oh, you can try
To shout and be heard,
But eventually, your throat going hoarse you’ll sigh,
As thin air swallows your last meaningless word.
Tree—that’s it, right?
Your bark is fading,
You’ve given into the fight.
And you lie here waiting.
Lost your sheen,
Skin as rough as nails,
Hair gone green,
Eyes as big as whales.
Tree, you’ll do it,
I know you will.
Tree? You may wilt,
But you’re not yet killed.
