My poor sycamore
Alas it is no more
A great tree it was
Opening its huge branches to the sky

Squirrels ran up and down
Its mighty trunk.
Tree creepers upside down
Came headfirst from lofty branches high

It was a sight to see each day
As it dominated the village scene
With its boughs and leaves so green
In midge filled summer heat

It is very sad to see it no more
My poor beautiful sycamore

David Marshall