The Tree Lady Poem by John Bliven Morin

There was an old lady who lived in a tree,
- This is real, not a fairy tale rhyme -
In a nice little town by the beautiful sea,
Living on nickels and dimes.

Many would wave as they passed in their cars,
- She had gained some measure of fame -
As she sat by her tree ‘neath the sun and the stars;
Yet nobody knew her real name.

Her home was of cardboard and broken wood slats,
Beneath the great boughs of her tree;
She was known to share food with any stray cats
That might come by for her company.

Carried water home in an old dishwashing pan,
To make some hot broth for a meal,
And to clean herself there as best as she can,
Though she long ago lost any zeal.

She was frequently seen on the streets of the town,
Where she often would ask for spare change,
Or be chatting or chiding, with a smile or a frown,
With no one within seeing range.

One night, while crossing a road on her way,
She was struck by a car which did flee;
They found her poor body the very next day;
She’d crawled home to die by her tree.

For months her tree was resplendent in flowers
By passers-by left there in love;
Remembrance of she who had slept neath the bowers,
Now resting in heaven above.