If I couldn’t Stay as Me,
think I’d Like to Be a Tree.
Put down Roots and Hold my Ground,
to that Spot I Would be Bound.
Squirrels/birds would Make their Home,
venture Out from There they’d Roam.
Most content Right where I sat,
only goal Is getting Fat.
I could Handle wind and Rain,
but Hurricanes would Be a Pain.
Struck by Lightning – Hope not Me,
wish It be Another Tree.
Growing old Right where I Stood,
unless I became Firewood.