You will be missed.
Your rough red skin peeling
Like the many tourists who enjoyed your shade.
Your prickly carpet, warm and whispering
In the morning’s breathy fade.
Your snaking roots breaking
Through the crackling ground.
The critics called it invasive,
And now you’ve been cut down.
And now they wonder at the empty space,
Your ghost in the park which they must replace.
Your trunks were our living history books,
Our parasols, our home, our friend
Even when, yes, even when
We gave your roots nasty looks.
Invasive pine, foreign tree,
You may be gone, but I’ll see
To it that you will be
In this village and all of the city
Forever missed.
Forever missed.
If the authorities chopped down one Australian pine plant ten trees instead. try to understand that trees are parts of our civilization. best wishes for good penning I share it with my friend Litia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful homage to the unnecessary destruction of a living tree. A truly heartfelt piece, touching, very well written. Poems are made by fools like you and me, But only God can make a tree