Silent Witness

I hear the chainsaw as it cuts

deep, just in time for the holidays.

The tree’s bark splinters. Some needles

fall to the ground,

bystanders to the slaughter. Years of

growth cut short by one man.

At least it’ll look good in the living room.

We each own a death.

Fin is a third year Creative Writing student at York St John University, currently working towards further studies in the form of a Masters degree. He has held an intense passion for the written word since he can remember.