Out the window
Is a tree
A gigantic elm
A wonderful sight
Gnarled and old
With snaps and snags
And hanging bits
A beautiful sort
A home to birds
And bees, I’m sure
For a hundred years
It’s been in this spot
And grown and grown
Brought thoughts to minds
Of those who look
Out windows, such as I
The other day
Whilst I was at work
They cut you down
And a hundred years
Turned to dust
In 8 short hours
Of sweaty work
Now all that’s left
Are homeless birds
And hopeless sky
