Varun Sivashankar

Outside my room,
Stood a tree,
It was as green,
As green could be.

It's trunk grew,
Up to ten feet high,
It's branches welcoming,
The open sky.

The tree once stood,
Tall and proud,
Until one day under it,
Gathered a crowd.

The tree was cut,
It was gone for good,
Cut for people,
Who wanted its wood.

I loved the tree,
I hated the crowd,
For cutting the tree,
Which once stood proud.

The heartless killing of the tree,
Will always stay in my memory.