I am that tree in your park.
I stand naked...disgraced,
when winter is.
I am ignored by all, even those,
who toss the snow.
I'm stiff from cold,
since autumn's leave.
Sun is my only blanket.
Night to night, my cracked gray arms lifted,
beg to heaven for relief.
Snow and ice, cling to break me.
I wither with barkless fingers.
My slender frame,
ravaged by deer.
But I still stand. I am strong.
Squirrels find refuge in my womb,
sparrows lite on my wooden arms,
and sing in sympathetic song,
to comfort me.
I wait for Spring,
when I am Queen, and dressed in emeralds.
I will decorate the hills and forests. Fireflies,
will glow like diamonds, on my leaves.
Rainbows will end on the side of me,
from a distance,
along with their pots of gold.
I will perfume the air with my budding flowers.
I will be climbed, sought for my fruit.
I will catch kites in tangled flight.
I will be beautiful once more.
As for now,
It is winters wrath,
I am forgotten,
ugly from lonliness,
so forgotten, ignored.
I am that tree,
in your park.
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