LYRIC FOR SALE

By Zap Gun

The trees made way, before the flood,
were guardians of the neighbourhood.
The trees made way, but in their shade,
once joyful forest creatures played!

The trees made way, none did demand,
the smiting of the woodman's hand.
The trees made way, unselfish act,
of nature's broad autodidact.

(The trees made way, they had no voice,
the trees made way, with little choice!)

The trees made way, their thousand years,
of being, did not warrant tears?
The trees made way, though no one cried,
their passing solemn, dignified?

The trees made way, see how the morn,
grieves for the limbs that have been torn.
The trees made way, now sun that shines,
seeks spreading boughs from earlier times.

The trees made way, never again,
to offer shelter from the rain.
The trees made way, the winds' tirades,
no longer meet with barricades.

The trees made way, does not their dearth,
renounce the cycle of rebirth.
The trees made way, to maintain pace,
of progress for a different race!