She was just a little pine tree,
Growing deep within a wood,
Her mother thought her beautiful,
As any mother would.
Her mother worried constantly,
And hoped it was not wrong,
To pray her little darling,
Would go unnoticed for so long.
But just one week before Christmas,
Human voices filled the air,
And a childís voice cried with excitement,
Oh, Daddy! Look right there!
And in less than a heartbeat,
There could be heard the sound,
Of a chainsaw that was running,
Motherís darling was cut down.
The Mother watched so helpless,
As her babe was dragged from sight,
And the sound of her crying,
Could be heard all of that night.
Her pride and joy was gone now,
With only sawdust left behind,
To remind her of her of what once had been,
A perfect, growing pine.
© 2003 Loree (Mason) OíNeil
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