Paul Davis

Your Tree

You look out from your yard to see me,
My leaves have all been turned brown.
I move in wind watching you be,
As you make your way into the town.

All my branches, they know your pain,
For forgiveness and mercy you try.
Of all of the men you have slain,
You could not look one in the eye.

I can read your lies like a book,
As the time comes for one more.
You stand in the shadows, a crook,
As he makes his way towards the door.

I told you that you should not go,
But I guess I will see you below.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.