Swaying in the breeze,
The palm clearly sees,
    its green reflection.
Unkind complexion,
    menacingly staring back.

“No water. Not just one snack.
My yearly wooden ring that
    shows my age is twice as fat.
My fronds barely fit between you two trees,
Don’t even get me started on my chubby coconuts,
     jeez!
And my spiky knees?
     please!

“Believe me when I tell you
I promise to cut down on the fertilizer,
     I do!
Not another thing will I let encumber
    me
I shall be by this Summer,
    as narrow as thee!

“My picture will be in Winter Tree Magazine
    just wait and you shall see!”

And so the palm refused to grow,
She neither ate nor drank,
     and so each day she slightly shrank.
The Spring and Winter past
    and Summer came at last.

“A ha! ‘Tis the Summer,
    now wait and see,
The picture on next issue’s cover
    shall be me!”

And yes it was true,
    the tree was quite thin,
And met all of her requirements
    right to the head of a pin.

The Summer heat was long however,
She daily lost a leaf in the drying weather.
    and soon the palm was nothing but a rack—
A place a person could hang the coat off their back.
With each passing breeze,
    the palm shriveled between her idol trees.

And the day before the photographer came,
     the tree died with only herself to blame.

“What a shame!,”
    the cameraman shouted.
“How did this one drop its leaves so fast—
It’s not even close to Winter,
    surely they were meant to last?”

“Ah yes, ‘tis quite sad indeed,”
    the forest ranger sighed,
“It was the nicest tree in the lot,
But last Spring it took to rot,
    and just recently it died.
It is too bad that it’s present reflection,
    is not a portrait of its true complexion.”

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