Poor Tree .

[Sir_Nigel]

Poor little tree

the tortured, twisting tree

battered by the wind

off the cruel North Sea

 

Tapping at the window

crying: ’Please help me,

I’m a young thin tree.’

Pounded through the night then

shattered, ruined, brought by the lee.

 

 

In the stillness of the day

I stand where you now lay

And though it’s true

you were blocking the view

I’m still sorry for you.

 

That blue and yellow bird

so regularly heard

habitually clings

and cheerfully sings.

But where he sits with the other tits

he can no longer see the sea.

That favourite perch will no longer be.

 

 

A final taunting breeze

stirs the dying leaves

 

A rabbit watches boldly

Scram rabbit, I say coldly

 

 

Poor tree,

inspiring poetree

in me.