Henry Hates Joyce

I think I shall never see

A sad poem about a parking lot made by Mr. Sy.

A parking lot whose chilly basement is pressed

Against Baguio’s once abundant pine tree crest.

A parking lot that looks at the mall all day;

And waits for cars of shoppers who pay.

A parking lot that covers people in Summer wear;

A nest of evicted bird species in its lair.

Upon its concrete levels Baguio’s cold has lain;

Insensitive of the dead forest’s pain.

Poems are made by fools like me

But only greedy men can uproot hundreds of pine tree.

***

Credit: Poem derived from ‘Trees’ by Joyce Kilmer.

Photo derived from http://www.freephotosbank.com

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Mood: 1/10 Honks! (Monday and WE are home.)

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