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| Maple Tree A sapling in the meadow, green, Beside a twisting, flowing stream, Where wagons full of people would come, For their children to laugh, play and run. Down the dusty road, the cars pass by, And across the creek, over the bridge do fly, Not stopping as they often would, When life was slow and days were good. Trucks and noise surround the tree. Tall earthen mounds, a home will be With a lane, one barn and fences now, Barking dog and spotted cow. Well, children laughing, once again, Swing on a tire, from a limb. They rest beneath, sip lemonade In the cool comfort of the shade. Douglas Fletcher 8/13/2001 |