Giving Tree

I am a giving tree, 

Used to always stay still,

Drop red, crispy, apples for all around,

Let others climb and break my branches in the process, 

But I never came to realize, 

How much I’ve been drained. 

 

Now a lovely bird told me, 

My red apples are all gone,

My branches and leaves are missing,

Looking winter in the midst of summer,

That I’m looking quite drained,

But that I have to cave away,

And preserve myself.

 

On a cloudy day,

One was climbing,

 Tugging my branch,

I did not take it anymore ,

So I severed the limb he was hanging on.

With soft rain soothing me afterwards.

 

I am still a giving tree, 

Growing new leaves,

New branches, 

Still giving away apples, but now self-considerate too.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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