Bleeding Trees

When I was a child I would play

In the woods across the street

I would go there every single day

Going along on little bare feet


Now I’ve returned after many years

To see my precious wood again

What I find instead brings me to tears

O my beloved, bleeding friends


There are so very few left of them

In their darkened, wooden home

Their once bright bark is now dim

Their fading leaves a haunting dome


They’re broken and sad, all alone

They call to me with broken sounds

With sad smiles and branches low

Fresh tears sprinkled o’er the grounds


These bleeding trees shall soon be saved

Even if it takes my whole life

I’ll rescue them from being paved

I’ll take them from the strife


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