The Tree of Dreams

Battered Wordsworth

Battered Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud,

until I hit a tree.

Stunned, sharp contact resounding loud,

the ground came up to meet me.

I swore until the air turned blue,

but no-one seemed to care.

How had it happened? I had no clue,

hurting I just lay there.

The red mist fell, I lost the plot,

the tree just had to die.

It injured me, I felt a clot,

for Tree, the end was nigh.

Revenge in mind, I strode away,

destruction was my aim.

I hoped the tree knew how to pray,

for vengeance was my game

Anger seething in my heart,

I bought some tools and gear.

I was going to take that tree apart,

show it how to fear.

No-one messes with my head

when I’m looking at the sky.

Soon my attacker would be dead,

just sawdust piled high.

I made my way back to the park,

and put on all my kit.

Took my time, so Tree would see;

make it sweat a bit.

Suddenly, a wall of sound;

all sirens, lots of noise.

I found myself flat on the ground,

divested of my toys.

The Police seemed very keen to ask,

what I was doing on my break.

Wandering round dressed as I was,

my anger made me shake.

I explained to them about the tree,

how it had raised my ire.

My planned revenge was halted.

P’raps next time I’ll try fire…

In hindsight, choice of clothing,

proved to be my mistake.

A chainsaw and a hockey mask?

A bad idea to take…