The Tree

The trees branches, long and old,

coated in the grassy mould.

When I climb up to the top,

I wish that time would just stop.

Sometimes I sit at the bottom for hours,

Admiring all of the beautiful flowers.

Then one day I come along,

Listening to my favorite song.

Then I see a great big red sign, 

It says ‘getting cut down, don't cross this line’.

I sit on the grass and I am sad,

I think of all the memories I’ve had.

We need to stop cutting down trees,

And polluting all the beautiful seas.

Doing all these things are wrong

Just leave them there where they belong.