Think I’d like to be a Tree

If I couldn’t stay as me,
think I’d like to be a tree.
Put down roots and hold my ground,
to that spot I would be bound.

Squirrels/birds would make their home,
venture out from there they’d roam.
Most content right where I sat,
my only goal just getting fat.

I could handle wind and rain,
but hurricanes would be a pain.
Growing old right where I stood,
unless I became firewood.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email