The Tree Poem by Sans Serif

There is a tree that grows out front,
Though younger that the rest of them,
It bides the weather and the storm,
But never let's it gt to him.
I tgrows so tall, and not quite yet
Does slump from the length of it's leaves.
It doesn't collapse from the weight it bears.
No quite like other young trees.
In storms severe and winters cold
It doesn't give in to extra weight.
It springs anew when it is time
Becuase it knows it is not too late
To rise again from dead bare limbs,
Or of roots that cannot reach further.
It has yet to fall victim or prey
To the man-made machine murderers.
It thrives to provide a shelter
To those animals who call it home
And hold those houses in their place
When a cold wind, through tree leaves, it combs.
It offers shade to hot, dry beasts
And a feast to those who feed.
It stands strong and tall to show it's pride
At helping things who are in need,
And yet, to-date, I never knew
How much it meant when I did see
It blown away i harshest winds
Gone forever without a seed.
I now see bare, unbroken ground
Where earth reclaimed it's fallen child,
And wish once more for beauty of
The green that was my isolated wild