The trees stand tall and silent,
their branches reaching for the sky.
A tapestry of greens and browns,
a sight that catches the eye.

Their leaves rustle in the breeze,
a symphony of sound and sway.
Their trunks are sturdy and strong,
a symbol of life and decay.

But in the shadows, they suffer,
a pain that we cannot see.
Their roots run deep beneath the earth,
a network of misery.

They feel the weight of the world,
a burden too heavy to bear.
Their leaves, a cover for the pain,
a mask that they cannot tear.

And in winter, they wither,
a tapestry of loss and grief.
Their leaves, a symbol of sorrow,
a sight that fills us with disbelief.

So let us mourn the trees that stand,
a symbol of suffering and pain.
A reminder of  the fragility of life,
a sight that fills us with disdain.