A little girl of seven always sat
Beside a maple tree behind her house;
They looked so pretty in their simple clothes –
Green, shiny leaves and blue taffeta blouse.

The time came for the child to take her bath,
As she was made to do most every day;
“Do trees take baths?”  she asked her frilly friend.
“We do, but we take ours another way.

“My leaves, once green, have turned to gold and brown,
And soon, I’ll shed my spring and summer dress.”
The lass replied, “But won’t your Mom get mad
For leaving all your clothing in a mess?”

A gentle breeze caressed the maple tree,
Which shook some leaves into the lass’ hair;
She giggled at the silly joke they shared
Of whether trees have any underwear.

“The snow will come and scrub my branches clean,
Just like the soap and water do for you;
When springtime comes, I’ll wear a brand-new dress,
Complete with nests, and birdies in them, too.”

The little girl then hugged her tree good-bye
And hurried to her house all filled with cheer;
It must be nice, she thought, to live a life
Where bathing only happens once a year.

© Copyright 2005 by Robert E. Blackwell