No one is up the mountains to hear the falling trees make a sound,
to tell what a tree's last moments were like.
Rather just some more wood to be found.

Never to question the amount of life you spent o'tree.
The years you lived, the fruits you bore and whether or not you, truly felt free.

Is this what a cruel world could do to you,
leave you so helpless till the day our kind became so few.
A sign of life left in this cruel world,
why must you suffer, like many.You did so much than they even realise and your stories yet to be told.

Why o'tree must we go like this,
trampled despite your size,
O'tree please know you will be surely the one I miss.
May we, still standing here, up this mountain tell stories of you.
May our offspring grow as great as you,
to reach the skies and touch its blue.