A sadness has come over me,
when I see the loss of another tree.
The beauty that bounds with growth
of leaves, fir needles, was a
sign of Spring and of the new youth.
As the year progressed and needles shed
I realized the beautiful tree was dead.
Call up an Arborist, coming to see me,
for I need your opinion on this, my tree.
It's dead and we will remove it for thee.
Oh by the way, this is our fee.
Ouch! I said for unlike a mouse
I wanted the tree down; Not build a house.