The Dancing Tree

The Dancing Tree

She sways her lovely leaves,
a gypsy of the breeze
her curves just barely veiled by emerald garments.

She loves to toss and twirl.
Oh precious little girl,
Beware the grey-eyed man, and fear his torments.

Please heed me, you must flee,
for I fear he sees thee!
His lusting hands, cold winds, they’re growing stronger!

Oh weathered, graceless form,
alive, but stripped and torn.
So marred by scars and shame you dance no longer.