A little girl alone planted her very first tree
Young it was, still she wondered, what it would be
Giddily she skipped away to return another day
Behind her back but she knew, harm had its way
A little girl not so different as she was you see
Saw the plant, felt angered, and swore it would not be
A thimbleful of honey was all that it indeed took
Leading from an anthill to where the sapling leaves shook
Days came and days passed and the little girl saw
The sapling leaves began to brown, wither and fall
Sadness in her eyes, she tried to find a way for peace
Bringing fresh soil, water, begging for the harm to cease
Many days later as she went to the area to plant again
She saw one that she had longed thought of as her friend
The friend thought herself clever and unknowingly disguise
The little girl saw the sticky fingers and decided to hide
As she stood behind a not so old oak tree in the field
Down came sweet as honey, a temptation ants could not yield
Her little sapling dying in front of her very eyes
The little girl forward to ask, but the friend said she lied
The honey was not from she, thus she did indeed proclaim
It was ironic that the same ants followed where her the same
The little girl asked, begged and did heartfelt plea
But the friend was already gone to an elder complaining
In the end the little girl, helpless as a fallen leaf
Watched the sapling die, never knowing what tree it would be

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Miraman, in the year 746 AF.