A tree stands in the heart of the city.
His branches stunted by brick and by mortar
His roots slowly wrapping around the tunnels beneath
Trying to choke the life out of the grumbling rumbling trains below
His bark sheds, removing the poisons, but he can never shed enough
His leaves blackened by cars and trucks rushing around in shifts of red, amber, green.
The magic here left long ago leaving behind only a memory for the tree to grow on.
He dreams of hills of emerald & fields of life with warm southern winds blowing through his arms
He reaches higher, up into the sky trying to ignore the orderly chaos below.
On brick and mortar and steel he climbs and grows, trying to drown out the fracus
A tree stands in the heart of the city,
His branches sway and moan
Reaching out for sunlight and magic.
Making the best of this home...
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