The Tree

A cold autumn’s day

No time to play

A cold autumn’s night

No time to fight

There she stands

Alone

With only the sounds of the forest

Her companions

She steps on the earth

Painted with the reds and yellows

Of the autumn season

The deserted road takes her to a tree

That stands tall

Above the rest

And seems to hold authority there

In its kingdom

But will it stand?

Shall the tree outlast

All the hate of men

While the fires burn

And the shots are fired?

For the war is not against the tree

But against the idea

That someone’s idea

Might be better than your own

So the wars wage on

And the ideas keep coming

And the hate continues

And the tree watches in silence