TREES. by Pauline L. Stillman

As I sit at my desk
To write my poetry
I think of the statuesque
Beautiful English pine tree

From which it was made
Along with its American cousins
Sacrificed to the timber trade
For our everyday convenience

Many things around the house
Originated from a tree
But not the computer mouse
That is man-made technology

This paper I understand
Was once a growing commodity
And the pencil in my hand
That too came from a tree

A tree has many uses
Giving oxygen to the atmosphere
Tissues made to wipe our noses
And dab from our eye a tear!