Was it you who told me how much
you loved The Giving Tree?
How lovely it was that the tree
gave her all to the boy, the man,
the one who ultimately killed her
by taking everything she had?
Oh, but it is just an extended metaphor,
you say just as you ask me nicely
for my last dollar, my last moment
to listen to you marvel at how life
had treated you so unfairly?
Too bad the giving tree had not
sliced her branches into a switch
to lay you down and tell you
that nap time is coming to you
regardless of your age,
that if you touch one more
of her lovely loose leaves
she will haul off and knock