My Friend is a Tree

For this month's roundup with a rhyme I have decided to post one of my picture book manuscripts. I've only recieve one rejection for it--because I only submitted it to one publisher. I suppose I should send it out more, but I've decided to concentrate my efforts on my Y.A. novels.

I hope you can enjoy it.

MY FRIEND IS A TREE

My friend doesn’t wear
pink bows in her hair.
My friend doesn’t eat
milk, muffins or meat.

My friend doesn’t shop,
swim, cycle, or hop.
My friend’s not like me.
My friend is a tree.

In spring she’s all white.
Her blossoms delight
my eyes and my nose.

I love what she grows.

She’s so fun to climb

in midsummer time.

If I get the whim,

I swing from her limb.

An apple a day

I eat when I play

with her in the fall.

We have such a ball.

Last winter, I’m told,

when it got so cold,

she gave her right arm

to help keep me warm.

But there’s more to my friend

than the good times we spend.

She gives me for free

stuff essential to me.

She recycles the air.
Makes plenty to share,
turning used air to new,
so I don’t turn blue.

When it’s a hot day
and I want to play,
I long for her shade
where cool air is made.

When I want to run
and the sky shades the sun,
I’m glad that she’s there,
her leaves clean the air.

My friend’s not alone.
All trees that are grown,
like oak, ash, and fir,
give gifts just like her.

We all need the trees,
baboons, birds and bees,
kids like me and you.
So what should we do?

Recycling is good.
It saves lots of wood.
I’ll turn off the light,
add blankets at night.

I’ll walk a lot more

to school and the store,

and plant a new tree—

a new friend for me.