“Who knows what a tree dreams of?”
“She dreams of a forlorn nightingale to sleep upon her bare branch in winter.
She dreams of an old man to sit on that nearby seat reading his folded newspaper.
She dreams of a bud to blossom among her leafs to amuse that passing-by girl with sleepy eyes.
She dreams of a young couple exchanging love promises in shy whispers leaning softly upon her.
She dreams that may be one day her extended roots would eagerly touch the roots of a distant tree.
She dreams that, after dying, she’d turn into a wooden toy in the hands of a boy with dimpling cheeks.
She just dreams of love and warmth!”