The First Poem I Showed Anybody Other Than My Mom and My English Teacher

I walk down the street
And see
A winter-weary tree.
He’s someone I’d like to meet,
With so many roots for feet.

He goes to sleep for months,
You know,
Then he puts on a bright green show.
His gal pal lost an arm once,
And now people climb her for hunts.

I happened upon some saplings here
And there.
With their youth, we started to cheer;
For the loss of trees is such a scare,
I would rather encounter a big brown bear.

I am finding it out to be,
There is much beauty in a tree!