‘Hey Mr, Mr. What you be doing?’
chimed a little fellow
down he be glaring
intrigued and beguiled
watching a grown man scribbling
on the trodden footpath
and curiously he’d be asking,
‘Hey Mr, Mr. What you be doing?’
The man smiled up
wide and crazy
a certain gleam in his eyes
‘Just watch, my boy!’
‘Just watch,’
as he continued
picking this chalk and that
his hands dusty
and the boy did just that
dancing on his tip toes
over the man’s shoulder.
Slowly and slowly
the scribbles took shape
sported colours and shades
and in that strange concrete jungle
that once used to be healthy
came to life a giant tree.
‘Hey Mr, Mr. What strange thing is that?’
The man stood and dusted his palms
eyeing the buildings tall around he
and he sighed
‘That my boy, is what we used to call a tree!’
‘What’s a tree, Mr?!’
the boy beamed
drawing a greater sigh from he
‘It used to home, somewhere we could breathe,
fresh air, and greenery!’
‘Oh,’ the boy mumbled, pocketing his hands,
eyes on the tree on the asphalt.
‘I only ever seen them in books.’
‘Aye,’ said the man, packing up his pastels.
‘Nowadays, that’s the only place you’ll find it.’
‘Why? They look beautiful.’
‘Because we killed them all, little fellow,
one tree at a time till there were no more.’
‘That’s a shame, Mr. Maybe my friends and I would have liked them.’
‘Maybe,’ and with that the man walked away
in search of another path
another boy
another soul
for whom he could draw a Tree.

(I do hope this is not where the world is headed!)

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