My Friend Is A Tree


by Carolyn Twede Frank

My friend doesn’t wear
pink bows in her hair.
My friend doesn’t eat
milk, muffins or meat.
My friend doesn’t shop,
swim, cycle, or hop.
My friend’s not like me.
My friend is a tree.
In spring she’s all white.
Her blossoms delight
my eyes and my nose.
I love what she grows.
She’s so fun to climb
in midsummer time.
If I get the whim,
I swing from her limb.
An apple a day
I eat when I play
with her in the fall.
She helps me grow tall.
Last winter I’m told,
when it got too cold,
she gave her right arm
to help keep me warm.
There’s more to my friend.
Her gifts have no end.
She gives me for free
stuff essential to me.
Recycling the air,
she makes lots to share.
Used air becomes new,
so I don’t turn blue.
When it’s a hot day,
I don’t want to play.
I long for her shade
where cool air is made.
When I want to run,
when smog dusts the sun,
I’m glad that she’s there.
Her leaves clean the air.
My friend’s not alone.
All trees that are grown,
like oak, ash, and fir,
give gifts just like her.
We all need the trees,
baboons, birds and bees,
kids like us, too.
So what should we do?
Recycling is good.
It saves lots of wood.
I’ll turn off the light,
add blankets at night.
I’ll walk a lot more
to school and the store,
and plant a new tree—
a new friend for me.

One thought on “My Friend Is A Tree

  1. My apologies to Carolyn for the formatting. For some reason it shows in WordPress as properly done, but the result was anything but right. I was left with doing it this way to break it into verses. We will do what we can to corect it, however.

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