A Tree isn’t Built
it is grown,
and though it may wilt
it’ll never be alone.
For a tree seldom comes as one.
When in a
forest
roads there are none.
Losing the way
in between the leaves
they begin to decay,
but I beg them please
let me leave this place.
Yet, I’m left wandering
around the base
of a towering
wooden maple.
I am
somehow unable
to touch its bark,
a simple yet
elegant
design of art.
The old wood chunks
surround the dated
tarnished tree trunk.
Never seeming to care
if they feel alone, their
roots firmly planted
in their spacious home.
Which will be gone,
one day,
even though they can’t
begin to say
how much
we’ve hurt them.
For so long
they thought we were friends.
Cutting them down
leaving a blank space
on the ground.
Now an open field.
We must stop,
yet we never yield.
Continuing to cut and clear,
when we should be in fear
of when the trees
are no
longer here.
it is grown,
and though it may wilt
it’ll never be alone.
For a tree seldom comes as one.
When in a
forest
roads there are none.
Losing the way
in between the leaves
they begin to decay,
but I beg them please
let me leave this place.
Yet, I’m left wandering
around the base
of a towering
wooden maple.
I am
somehow unable
to touch its bark,
a simple yet
elegant
design of art.
The old wood chunks
surround the dated
tarnished tree trunk.
Never seeming to care
if they feel alone, their
roots firmly planted
in their spacious home.
Which will be gone,
one day,
even though they can’t
begin to say
how much
we’ve hurt them.
For so long
they thought we were friends.
Cutting them down
leaving a blank space
on the ground.
Now an open field.
We must stop,
yet we never yield.
Continuing to cut and clear,
when we should be in fear
of when the trees
are no
longer here.
Jack Zimmer currently lives in Omaha, Nebraska and attends Metropolitan Community College. He is working towards an Associates degree in Creative Writing, and hopes to attend a four year school upon graduation from Metro.