ODE TO A SCRAP OF PAPER

I was once a Tree
Not the lined, scribbled upon scrap you see now
I was tall and strong and beautiful root to leaf, bough to bough
Now I am flat with printed lines, ordinary in every way.

But I was once a tree

Not a folded, ripped and stained messenger of words
I was a pillar reaching to the very heavens and a haven for birds
Now I am the lowly receptacle of a spilled drink on a tray

But I was once a tree

Not a used and useless, torn and crumpled up form
I was hard, yet gentle, swaying brightly thru the most terrible of storms
Now the smallest breeze would carry me away

But I was once a tree

A chameleon of the colors of fall
A shady place to lie one’s head
A playground for children and animals
Who scampered through my limbs
And laughed and who were in awe of me
Now I am only a piece of waste to be burned
A minor household inconvenience
“Take the garbage down on your way out!”
And now the roaring furnace jaws open wide…

But I was once a tree

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