The Tree By Maura Z. Age 14

The Tree Cars whizzed by,
All too fast,
And I imagined things the way they used to be,
With tumbling hills, brimming with warbling birds and flowers so sweet,
The way the fresh wind would blow on my branches, stretching my limbs for a new day,
But now I could only see a wide highway cuttinginto the roll of the fields as I stared onward,
The exhaust had tattered my once tender leaves, and shards of glass littered the base of my trunk,
I thought back to the old farmhouse that used to rest nearby, with its bright windows and warm presence,
I remembered when the children tied a rope around my strongest branch,
And swung in the breeze, their young laughter still echoeinceg thorough my mind,
But the builders came and explained that people with places to go and no time to waste had to come through here,
So the solid little house is gone,
And the people with places to go and no time to waste still race across the once brilliant landscape, not admiring the hue of the golden grases that whisper their sad tales to the fluent wind,
A splatter of mud speckled my trunk and I repeated those words that never left my heart,
Just wait a little longer, someday the sun will sing bright once more. -Maura Zindler