Summer
The boy, the poor poor boy,
And the tree, the tall tall tree,
Together they sit, the tree
Yearning, ever so yearning, to give the boy his strength
For the tree knew the boy was sick.
He could feel his weak heart against the season’s thriving life,
And yet the boy only then felt the choke at his throat which made him cough,
Ever so violently.

No, he thought, worry over shadowing his vibrant face.
The tree, the strong tree, swayed trying to comfort the weeping boy.

Fall
Every day, the boy has come to the tree
Envying his strength, his immortality
And every day the tree yearned to give the boy comfort.
Back and forth, the two tried to live and let live
But the boy was growing sicker day by day
Just as the tree, himself, was wilting.
Then the day came that the poor poor boy could not come out
And the tree wept,
Though, he did so ever so gently, not to wake the worrisome boy

Winter
As the tree felt himself wilting away
He could feel the boy’s ever so weak heart
Though with each pulse, the tree could feel his plea
His so selfless plea and then the tree knew that this winter would be his last.
All this time, the boy watched his tree sway and rock
And with each raspy gasp he took
He could feel something pulsing through him
In rhythm with each sway the tree took.

Spring
With each spring, there is new life
And to prove this, you can see the boy walking now
Each step in rhythm with a sway
Each pulse in time with the season’s
Each breath in remembrance of his savior.
Now the tree stands, stiff and still,
No sway
No pulse
No breath.