THE LAST TREE

I am the last one on earth, standing tall and proud,

My branches still looking up towards the barren clouds,

I know deep down, my fate is sealed,

For your relentless thirst that never ceases.

I stand here now, the last of my kind,

A monument to what you've left behind,

But as I wither, I wonder with dread,

What lies ahead after I am dead?"

Your efforts, though noble, come too late,

I mourn the horror of our impending fate.

My roots cannot spread, my leaves cannot grow,

And the sorrowful truth is, I have no seeds left to sow.

I remember the green days of old,

When forests stretched far and wide. 

I now stand alone, the last of my kind,

A symbol of man's greed, a map to a tragic end.

I weep for those that once called me home,

For the birds and the bees that used to roam,

For the air I once purified, and the earth I nourished,

All lost to your greed, all selfishly perished.

You labour to save me green, with all your might,

But you cannot undo what you caused in your flight,

I, the last of my kind on earth, stand alone,

A monument to man's folly, a heart of stone.

Alas! It is too late to turn back time,

To undo the error you've made in your climb,

I, the last survivor, stand in sorrow and woe,

With no seeds left to sow, no future to grow.