This is a tale
In which I hope I do not wale
Of the short friendship
Between I and a tree
That did not last a whip

It was a summer’s day
I was so tired and wished to lay
Beneath the shade of a tree so gay
I propped myself up
Against the trunk
And started to doze off away

I admired my new friend’s leaves
And her popular apples and bees
They buzzed and glimmered
And caused the light to look dimmer
It made me feel at ease

Yet as the wind blew so cross
Trying to anger the moss
My good friend the tree
No longer wished to befriend me

I begged and I cried
I even lied
In hopes to maintain her trust
Yet in the blink of an eye
She threw with great thrust
An apple at me
Accompanied
By a flustered bee

With that I took off
Having a knot on head
And fighting the bee
Who wanted me dead

I no longer wish
To make a companion
Of any tree
Or their need to have solitude as the main dish