Three Trees

 

Three saplings jewellery box sailing ship Larch cattle trough fishing boat storm timber nativity crucifiction Story Poems 3 Tree Index

Three little trees within a wood

   All talked as they all grew

And, thinking of their lives ahead,

   Dreamed, as we humans do.

 

The first tree thought: “I’ll be a box

   And hold some treasures rare.

A girl will love and cherish me.

   I’ll be in such good care.”

 

The second tree, a tiny oak,

   Thought of its years ahead:

“Instead of being some girl’s box

      I'll be a ship instead.”

 

The last tree said: “I’ll not be cut.

   I’ll grow up straight and tall.

And my majestic height will be

   Admired by one and all.”

 

The years went by and then, one day,

     Men came to cut them down,

And they were carried far away

   To some quite distant town.

 

The first of these three friends became

   A trough that held some grain -

And there, inside a cattle shed,

   Its dreams seemed quite in vain.

 

The oak tree never was a ship

   But just a fishing boat,

So its dreams too, were cut in size:

   It also could not gloat.

 

The third tree too was cut right down

    And stored out in a yard.

Its dreams were also sadly dashed.

     Oh, life was very hard!

 

One night two travellers arrived

    And in a barn they stayed.

A baby boy was born that night,

      And in a manger laid.

 

This was a very treasured child -

    “The son of God” they said:

The first tree was, to this small child,

    A warm and cosy bed.

 

In later years, the fishing boat,

    Took someone on a lake:

He slept through an almighty storm

    But friends bade him to wake.

 

He told the storm to hold its peace,

    And this was quickly done:

This man, with powers to lull a storm,

    Was surely God’s own son.

 

In later years the third big tree

    This man did also meet,

But on his back he bore its weight

    Along a crowded street.

 

Upon a hill above the town

    They nailed him to its wood

And people crucified a man

    Who only brought them good.

 

The first tree held a treasured child,

    The second saw wondrous things

And the third tree sadly saw him die -

    Jesus, the King of Kings.

 

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By Josie Whitehead