Once again it’s putting on its winter clothes,
Its blanket of snow,
and suffercating the earth.
It drapes of the arms of trees and onto the blanket below.
Screaming children jump on its stomach and kick its shins.
For their pleasure not his.
They just leave him there to rest in pain.
No one relizes him.
Taken for granted he sits there surrounding his own beauty.
Now ruined on the stone cold floor.