Dear friend, 

How are you?

I must confess,

That mine eyes have not seen,

Your beautiful tress. 

 

Of green leaves,

And long boughs, 

And fresh, gentle touch. 

 

I miss you, 

My friend,

Oh, oh so much. 

 

I miss how the sunlight, 

Would shine down his face,

And tickle our toes,

With his golden lace. 

 

I miss the warm feel, 

Of your bark 'gainst my skin,

As I climbed up to watch, 

The whole world begin. 

 

Though I am a man now, 

I still yearn to see, 

Anything so lovely, 

As my friend, the tree.