My Home Is a Tree

A Poem

Photo by Vijayasimha BR on Unsplash

Cut it down, I want it gone
Ugly thing, twisted gnarled
Beyond redemption
Chop it up and throw it through the grinder.

A hundred years
Two centuries or more
From seed to sapling
That ugly thing stood guard
Weathered every storm
But now you say, lacking charm,
Its time is up, it has to go.