Tears For A Tree

They chopped the old tree down today. The one they said that got in the way. The way of what? Inquired I, also feeling the cut. The way of progress. Came a cold reply meant to ignore my distress. So, turning I walked away. There was simply nothing more I could do or say. The ancient tree was already down. Laying there so still as if listening to the earth, awaiting one last sound. I first saw it as a child, by my bedroom window each night. Like a protecting king always there to gaurd me from worry and fright. I cannot recall a time it was not there. Strong, straight and noble rising so majestic into the air. Safe was I, so long as it stood. For me, from earliest days it represented all that was pure and good. Now the tree at last had to go. The tiny house with my little bedroom window was demolished years ago. The old folks are likewise long gone. That dear tree was the final tune of my past, sad and melancholy song. And now even that they've taken to burn. Leaving no place of wonder at all for my recollections to return. So I shall forever leave here and say a last goodbye. With nothing left at all except memories flowing with the tears for a tree that I cry. 'I cannot lean so hard on any arm as on a sunbeam.' - Henry David Thoreau