The Tree

There before the house,

you were condemned for daring

to undermine it.

Cut down bit by bit:

limbs lopped off one at a time,

then your great trunk felled.

I knew of your fate

and so avoided getting

too attached to you.

Even so I still

felt sad at the thought of it.

It didn’t seem right.

On the fateful day

I tried not to watch as you

were cruelly butchered.

But the sound of saws

was inescapably loud

and the pain got through.

After you were gone,

passers by would stop to stare

in sad disbelief.

Then the stump man came

to grind what was left of you

back into the ground.

Like a grave digger,

shovelling the wood shavings

over your remains.

I mourn your passing

and will plant another tree

in honour of you.

I will care for it

and will remember you when

I look upon it.