Saturday, July 9, 2016

Roughness, not my Fault!

Image result for Image Ash Tree
Ash Tree

Birds prey on my fruit;
Kids play in my shade and use
 People all my parts.

Why do you be, from
Me, away? Come to my shade,
Lonely when you feel.

Now I grow old, my
Looks lose luster, all that are
My pals, dessert me.

Young of us, youths choose;
Creases will conquer charm of
Both, pale will grow bark.

Your Tree Ash am
 I; coarse now becomes my bark,
I lose my splendor.

Roughness, not my fault
Ruining my lure brings wrinkles,
Time on handsome me.

Picture From Google