I remember the day I cut off my roots,
How much it ached.
Now I'll never be a tree.
When that's all I ever wanted to be.
I no longer hear the calls of the whipper wills,
The Katydids no longer speak to me.
This land is so harsh and dry,
I could never be a dogwood, willow, or birch.
I'll never be a poplar log,
Or pine bench.
I gave up my roots,
That path is dead to me.
Let me change,
Grow into something new,
I found new earth to plant my feet,
Let me root into something new,
No longer a tree,
But still beautiful and green.
By Abrigella
