The Fallen Tree And The Chilren Poem by RIC BASTASA

all its leaves fell
the morning after the storm
and what you see
are the twigs which look
like the thin fingers of
old women widowed and
bowed by years of
patience and sacrifices

another strong wind pushed
it bending upon another tree
to lean upon
but its hands have finally
given up the struggle to
stand erect with dignity

the cleaner of the town
cut it into pieces to be
thrown in the smoky heap
of garbage far from the
place where children still
remember how climbing its
branches had been a
delight of their memories.