[From my book: “Sad Face King”]

You are one confused tree;

Have multiple identities.

Don’t know what you want to be,

Are you a flower or a tree?

Blooming so prettily,

Late in March annually.

A floral bouquet that itches my throat;

Reminding me that allergy time is nigh.

Pelting me with heavy petals as I sit reading.

You are a schitzo-making no sense tree;

Every year I say with money and a chainsaw,

I’d put you out of your lavender, white and ultimately green misery.

After-all, I must clean up after your moods.

Because of so many compliments from passersby,

Oh colorful one, you will maintain.

But when those petals fall and touch ground,

They shrivel-up and turn a rusty brown.

pickhitt: a poem about a tree in my front yard. – I know, I need to”get a life”…LOL