The Tree
A cold autumn’s day
No time to play
A cold autumn’s night
No time to fight
There she stands
Alone
With only the sounds of the forest
Her companions
She steps on the earth
Painted with the reds and yellows
Of the autumn season
The deserted road takes her to a tree
That stands tall
Above the rest
And seems to hold authority there
In its kingdom
But will it stand?
Shall the tree outlast
All the hate of men
While the fires burn
And the shots are fired?
For the war is not against the tree
But against the idea
That someone’s idea
Might be better than your own
So the wars wage on
And the ideas keep coming
And the hate continues
And the tree watches in silence