Chop, chop, a terrible sound, down Grandfather tree tumbled to the ground.
Chop, chop, a teary rhyme, his life extinguished in no time.
Men with axes, it hurts me the most, you, Grandfather, have been choked, your spirit gone, away and beyond.
Animals and birds, your brothers and sisters, grieved through the night,
No more will you shade the light.
Shelter, you gave, I could see your face, now gone, an empty space.
Chop, chop, a fading cry, memories of you, etched in Father Sky.
A tree I plant in your name, Bleeding Heart, a living flame.
Caring for kin, your family, you, taking on an important role, as many trees do, nurturing Country, as you grew, in your absence, it's what I'll pursue, this poem is for you, what I know to be true.
For the time with me you spent, was my greatest present.