That Old Tree.

That old tree just stands there by those rusty railroad tracks. It's dead. It stands apart from all the other trees like some kind of rebellious teenager. It just picked up its roots and moved as far away from the rest of the them as it could. It's not much good to anyone nowadays. I don't remember if I mentioned it's dead. It provides no shade to anyone. There is no tire to swing from. Its branch would probably break if you tied one on it now. It just stands there alone and solitary, like it's guarding something. Maybe it wanted to get away from the other trees so bad that it tried to just jump on that train, only to realize too late that it couldn't pull its roots free from the ground and hop on. The train's stopped running by. For a while it was the only thing that tree could see. It moved too far away from the other trees. The only thing it saw was them two rusty tracks spiked down to one of its cousins amid the crushed rock. In a way, I kindof feel sorry for that old tree. Not because it died. I don't feel sorry because it's all alone neither. I feel sorry for that tree because I like to think that it had a dream once. Maybe that dream was to move where there was a creek or a house where people watered it and played around near it. Maybe it wanted a tire swing tied to that long branch. Maybe it wanted a treehouse built inside it. Maybe that tree just wanted to get away from the trees it grew up around so bad that it was willing to do just about anything to get away. Maybe that's what made it move beside that train track where there wasn't no water. Maybe that's why it went there. To die. That's what makes me feel sorry for that tree. I'm standin here looking at a dead tree that no one but me seems to care about and that's just the thing. No one cares. That's why I gotta wipe this tear from my eye. A tree stands alone by the rusty railroad tracks. It is dead and no one cares.