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Poem

The young trees weren't agog with winter snow
As the leaves chose to wither than grow,
Wafting gently its autumnal crocus to the frozen ground,
While the night birds carols in sonorous sound.

Yet it is garbed in prismatic glimmering ice
All over the street it dazzles the eyes
Of Dryad, then it heard a roar breaking the ambience
As if the wind was arguing with silence.

Then the sound lead to another, then another -
A cacophony deafened the air and shakened the order
A man with a chainsaw needs a Christmas tree
He sawed off the root and fissured it with glee

A young lad - a sentry was stationed by the way
He held his own star, lights and candies in a manner somewhat gay.
"Careful dad!" As the tree succumbed its teary droplets on dad
Before making a fall that made Dryad sad.

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