A reflection on the wasted life of a tall tree as told by the roots that what reminds of it.

I think I haven’t heard a fate so grim,
Than a tall tree fallen to a cutter’s whim,
Remnants of once robust living roots,
Has breathe life way up to the tree shoots,
And with fine roots deep and buried,
On the ground it sucks nutrients to be carried,
To the branches and leaves of the tree that swayed,
Against harsh winds and storms for decades,
But now that faithful life standing firm,
Was cut short by mankind’s rules that confirm,
A paved road to be constructed in its place,
So now it’s a fragment of a tree without a face,
Joyce Kilmer had made such a great poem about a tree,
But who would be fool enough to cut one for poetry?
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