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Bye-bye my Silk Cotton friend
Bountiful and full you swayed bodily gorgeous in the breeze,
your big green pods encrusted with golden pollen, the bees mind on freeze.
They mined in your pods like there was no clock, nor sunset lock.
I remember you when you were down by my ankle.
They were some whom your presence rankled.
I resisted so you were neither bangled nor mangled.
A dear old lady poured out her love on you,
each evening eagerly watering you,
talked to you,
believed in you,
and you flourished and grew.
Your boughs lifted full to the sky.
She smiled at you and sighed.
Your spread spaciously spatial and wide.
In your branches doves in love abide.
Therein, their love for each other confided.
Your trunk and main branch even love curved into a heart shape,
at which many did gape, at your natural arboreal landscape.
It was your silky airborne parasails I think,
that made your bright future blink.
Their heavy invasion lacked domestic evasion.
Your silk sheeted the ground in white, your soldiers did
not draw the line at door sill rights.
So numerous they bothered some, with esthetic plight.
I fought for you seven years, even though the campaign
would less appear.
The long siege broke down the wall, exhausting all stall.
It therefore was just days before the men with axes appeared.
Your lofty boughs they sheared.
Where the loving doves used to share.
The colorful dressed Lady Bugs now homeless,
and the shiny coat Hummingbirds at the empty space clueless,
and the emptiness just screaming in the space,
the root standing in the ground, and the space feeling the phantom tree,
felled by above the ground walking trees like you and me.
When they took the axe to you, it was more than I wanted to see.
Tree to tree I commiserated with the birds, bees and trees.
In the empty space we miss you see, sailing in the wind so whee.
After Elsa and ash, and all that hash, you stood strong unabashed.
O Silk Cotton tree, so sweet and free, I still feel and see.