A pleasantly bubbling creak murmurs softly, complacently flowing as a creak does, day in and day out By the crumbling bank stands a strong willow tree, rooted by the prolfic stream Thoughtlessly taking the water of which it needs, a simple commodity to a tree of such stature and poise And gracefully, beautifully shivering at the base of his trunk, there lives a daisy, white and pure The willows roots indulge themselves, thirsting, thirsting for more Negligent to the flower below who makes its view that much more lovely Than just a simple stream, and who provides to the animals and children a blustery smile Beckoning them to the shade where they might play and the daisy might watch over them And as the roots take and take they choke the misguided flower, leave her to wither One soft petal falls to the grass rendering her no more than a tainted **** No child will ever present her to his good mother now Not now that she is no longer the pure beauty she once was, not with such an imperfection And though she may beg for mercy, she must weaken and give herself to the strong roots of the willow Until she is but a dying cause with browned stale edges and though she lay so close to life, stable life She does not possess the power to take rein so she the sage awaits the logger in silent knowingness