A small yellow tree stood,
With fences round its fragile body,
Smoking vehicle, smoking men,
Blocking its supply of daily needs,
‘Please ignore me.’
Where are the leaves? Where are the flowers?
Like a mutated baby, impure and rejected,
Cigarette butts and rotten food lied on its feet
The soil is hard, filthy and dried.
‘Please ignore me.’
Every small buff shorten its life,
Everyday, pain erupted like mother’s labor,
They wouldn’t understand it,
For they have long forgotten it.
‘Please ignore me.’
Timothy James Webster
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tree-in-a-big-city/
