A Tree's Wish

I went on a walk along the riverside road,
Dipping my feet in the river every now and then,
As the heat got to my barefoot soles, I stretched
Under one of the last remaining trees on the banks,
The tree was alone, as lonely as I felt at that moment,
So we gave each other company for a while,
He was one of the last few left, a painful witness he had been,

After watching his friends bid adieu, one after the other,
Making way for concrete and glass, neither spoke his tongue,
He had stood there, waiting, for his day to leave his birthplace.
In his desolation, he spoke to me, of his dying wish,
That he wanted, not to be a leg under a rich man’s table,
Or to be burnt at his fireplace, but to be made into a diary
To tell his story to kids who will never see a tree in its greenery.