Standing somewhere in the horizon of a green land
Asking GOD to mercy on her up leveling hands
Looking up and talking to the faraway uprising sky
The tree stood under the shining sun and cried
“I am a three hundred years old Cottonwood tree
All I am asking you for is looking at the miserable me
I am living under your great home, right in soil
I wish that the rest of my years won’t be spoiled
It’s totally right that my true name is Cottonwood
But now I am living as another tree, in another mood
You GOD, have to help me in any possible proper way
Just wait to tell you what I felt the past few days
I used to be a long time ago an Eastern Hemlock
I used to be considered by all my beauties a padlock
My head in the sky was enclosed by green leaves
My trunk was so covered by the oppressive eaves
I was so young in a way my life was going fine
I printed my character and typed my personal line
I had something special going up and down in my roots
I just knew that for the next life I will deeply suits
But I wanted no more to be the mockery among my family
About how fat and large I am always used to be
But I am deeply exhorted to get a new emotion
To satisfy my desire engraved in my leave’s lotions
After the Eastern Hemlock I felt as a coconut palm
I was getting mature so I tried to be wise and calm
I tried to help people by giving the fruit of my survival
But never believed that bad things were an arrival
My feet over the hot golden sands are getting burned
But I don’t know my thins to deserve what I’ve earned
My head has become wagged and so not cool
And my shadow is getting moreover a naked stick of pool
After the Coconut Palm’s feelings invaded my mind
I sought about a sister to be useful, handsome and maybe kind
I couldn’t find but the Quaking Aspen to be my place
To be my new character, to be my forever face
After being the Quaking Aspen I looked in a reflection
I saw what every tree want from life and it perfection
I saw myself as a fifty years old tree, I felt so young
I wished that my perfection will last all along
But when seasons stroke on my leaves all day and night
When I used to make surgeries of colors in every fight
I wanted to find a solution for what I have just became
So I can finally rid away of my ugliness that I always blamed
I have decided to get back to myself that I used to be
To the perfection in my life that I couldn’t see
I want to ask the last favor from you my Lord
Forget what I have just said and all my words
Because now after feeling what other trees feel in their life
I noticed and learned that paradise may sometimes be a strife
So the self satisfaction of what we are must never fade
Because a recovery phase may often seems too late…
