Elia Michael


My Tree


They are here from the nursery
They’ve come to chop down my tree
Well not completely chop it down
But at least to chop off its crown

I find it such a useful tree
I don’t know where I would be
Without its cool shade in summer
Perhaps a little glummer

In winter all its leaves do fall
So the sun shines on my wall
And it brightens my little flat
The very one I am at

Submitted: Monday, April 07, 2014
Edited: Monday, April 07, 2014

Topic of this poem: tree


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