Sometimes I Think

Sometimes I think I’d like to be
Something as beauteous as a tree.
My toes I would put forth as roots
And branches skywards I would shoot.

In my veins, not blood but sap
And ivy round my trunk would wrap.
Through my twigs would play the breeze
While I stand with many other trees.

Upon my branches leaves will spring
And perching on me fowl of wing.
In my shade shall people sit
And poems about me shall be writ.

In seasons new, my blossom sprout
And later fruit I will give out.
I’ll stand for centuries for all to see
When I’m as beauteous as a tree.