[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