Our world is covered in green

If you must know what I mean

Look outside and see

The countless beautiful trees

In the center stands the oak

Quite the cebebrity, you know

His leaves, the birds’ cloak

That’s why he must grow

To the left yawns the palm

He hums a soothing song

Should the sun follow along,

His shade will keep you calm

To the right hides the willow

Her branches resemble a grotto

Despite her moonlit glow,

She lets out a breathless crow

Trees are raised by sun and water,

their soil mothers,

and grassy fathers.

So where could a tree still falter?

There’s always a storm

Always somebody’s fault

With all this turbulence underground

Their roots began to rot

Wind whips

Branches fall

Baby birds cannot hear

their mother’s call

Inside the trunk is hollow

Yet no one else can see

The willow tree withers

Sickness spreads through the leaves

She wishes she could return to a seed

So her treacherous roots can never be

Even so, as nothing more than a tree,

all she can do is weep

Solemnly.