Spirit Of The Tree © Poem by Roann Mendriq

Beyond the street, a tree once stood,
Majestic, tall and dignified;
She was murdered for her wood,
For man's greed, she suffered died.

The ground on which she stood was scarred,
a broken, open wound that gaped;
Soon covered, paved and darkly tarred,
No sign of what was murdered, raped.

Yet, every time I chance to pass,
on silent evening walks alone,
the heady scent of tree and grass
rise from the dusty, paved cold stone.

And leafy rustlings from the past
whisper that the tree will last...