MissInglis

Two hundred years ago A little tree was sprouted, Its furled leaves began to grow Although many had doubted With fifty years scored The sprout was no more, In his place A great leafy Lord, His limbs had branched out Green fingertips galore His trunk tall and stout, watching over the shore One century later And the King was still standing His reign even greater His reach still expanding But today it’s suggested That the King’s rule should end Just because one requested A new building ascend Day by day The Sprout has nurtured our lives… Should He be slayed? Or should He survive?