trees
By Tzu-chiao H
Published 12 August 2024
I get swished by the breeze.
Under the mountain's feet.
"Wish wash,'' the water goes by me.
I get dried by the sun.
I was a city but now I am none.
I gave people so many things and animals, too, but now I am considered nothing.
I get sliced up for paper, my smell gets inserted into your perfumes and I get smushed into a home.
I gave you things and you never noticed a thing that was a gift from me.
I gave you a home, a roof above your head, it is different now, I can no longer stay.
I gave home to the buzzing bees, I'm sitting here alone, no one will care about me.
I'm surrounding you for now, help me before technology takes me down.