My Brother- from beginning to end

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This was one of my first attempts to poetry. In eight grade, my English teacher gave us the assignment of metaphorical poems and so I chose to compare a tree to a person. It is born, it grows, it dies. But it still serves a purpose even after it is long gone; the memories of the person are reflected in the actions of others.

Submitted: November 23, 2012

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Submitted: November 23, 2012



In the spring after winter was worn

A baby tree was happily worn

With leaves sprinkled with morning dew

It would live a long life that I knew

In the summer, its leaves were green

Its hungry roots were sometimes mean

They dug up sidewalks and many roads

They wanted water that came in loads

A while later its flower bloomed

But then I realized time had zoomed

Because fall had already come

And its leaves were reduced to some

Its falling leaves made it branches look sad

They shriveled up and looked very mad

Then the first sign of snow began to fall

And its trunk was soon hit by a big snowball

But despite the harsh winter, the trunk held up strong

It survived many winters, which were very long

But then came some men, needing warmth in their house

Cut down that baby tree, as if it was a mouse

I pleaded and struggled to prevent them from so,

But no matter what I did, the answer was no

And now all that’s left of that baby tree

Is a stump with rings of a great eighty-three

Although its life is gone worn and beat

Everyone can still enjoy it as a nice little seat

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