Tree


It stands strong and steady;
For the seasons it is ready.
Tall and steadfast,
It's reaction to the weather is crass.

Through the ground its roots burrow;
They pierce like the arrow.
It does continue to grow,
And from it, his eye does not go.

The lumberjack sees it rise to its peak;
Next to it he feels meek.
But it is time for it to come down
To add to his growing town.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem