The tree

The trees are green like every year
They don't quake or shrivel in fear
When a man with a blade comes to take them down
They stay where they are in the solid ground

They can't run or scream or try to hide
They can't do anything to make sure they survive.
They just stand up straight, chest up high,
Not letting fear show in its invisible eyes

But no matter what, the blade will swing
And crunch away at the tree's inner beam
Of glory, of pride, of strength, of life
No remorse to the man who holds the knife.

The tree cracks, under loss of balance
Starts to sway, like almost in a trance
"How could I fall?" the tree will think
"I thought I would stand forever, not sink."

Down, down, down, the tree cascades
It's last show of power in the leafy shades.
It lands with a boom, so full and strong
But not too long 'til the sound is gone

The tree slowly but surely starts to die
It's eyes forever looking at the sky.
It's mind trying to comprehend
What had happened that made his life end.