Matchsticks and toothpicks

by John Smallshaw
(London. England)

Once I was a tree.
..and back then you wouldn't have recognised me
I was tall
I was strong
My trunk was hard and my branches were long.


Autumn's have come and gone and though I go on, I am old now and grey.
One day I'll fall and another will take my place.
I suppose we all have to face..
..the axe.

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