A Tree Destroyed, So We Could Write
Something for us all to think about
A Tree Destroyed, So We Could Write
Once it stood, roots deep in time,
whispering secrets in the wind’s soft rhyme.
Its arms held birds, its shade gave rest,
its golden leaves, the sun’s bequest.
Then came the blade, the sharpened will,
stripping bark, the sap ran still.
A life exchanged for ink and page,
a silent loss in letters caged.
From fallen veins, a poet’s scroll,
words take shape—but at what toll?
For every verse that we recite,
a tree destroyed, so we could write.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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By S. A. Crawford7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
You are still a poet that makes one think. It is a shame to cut trees to make paper, but there are forests that do need some pruning for new growth to happen.
Oh my, this is lovely. But, the poor trees. 😢
Thank you ♦️♦️♦️♦️
worth pondering for ☕️ Great poem~