I need to write, soon. Amy is gonna ban me from this place.
Do one about Louie/Max.
That will melt her heart, and you'll be good for months afterward.
I think that I shall never see
A thing as ugly as that tree.
Grass won't grow within her shade
So through the mud I daily wade.
Her leafy arms she holds aloof,
And tears the shingles from my roof.
From above a constant shower,
Leaves in the yard, sap on my car.
In other trees, birds fly and flit,
They only come to mine to ____.
Autumn comes and colors abound,
My tree just turns to barnyard brown.
This poem was made by poor old me,
And Poulan fixed that dratted tree.