♥ We say we love flowers, yet we pluck them. We say we love trees, yet we cut them down. And people still wonder why some are afraid when told they are loved . . . . ♥
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast ----
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray ----
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair ----
Upon whose bosom snow has lain ----
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.♥
~ Trees, Joyce Kilmer ~
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