Matchsticks and toothpicks

by John Smallshaw
(London. England)

Once I was a tree.
..and back then you wouldn't have recognised me
I was tall
I was strong
My trunk was hard and my branches were long.

Once.

Autumn's have come and gone and though I go on, I am old now and grey.
One day I'll fall and another will take my place.
I suppose we all have to face..
..the axe.
Eventually