In a place once bright where the soft winds would sing,
Where the air felt alive and the leaves felt like spring,
Stood forests that whispered in colors so free,
A world full of life… untouched… wild… and green.
But quiet turned restless, and restless turned loud,
As smoke traced its fingers through sky like a shroud.
With axes that gleamed and machines that would roar,
They carved through the roots of what stood there before.
They chopped and they stacked and they sold it as gold,
Turned life into numbers, turned warmth into cold.
They bottled the air, they darkened the breeze,
Then asked why the silence was louder than trees.
The rivers ran heavier, thicker with stain,
The sky lost its color, replaced by a pain.
No songs in the branches, no dance in the light,
Just echoes of something that vanished from sight.
Whisper trees… hear them cry,
Orange skies don’t ask you why.
Cut it down, stack it high—
Watch the living slowly die.
They painted it pretty, said “Look what we’ve made,”
Built towers of progress from life that would fade.
Sold air in a bottle, sold dreams in a line,
While time kept on ticking… decline by decline.
Paint it green, sell the lie,
Smoke and mirrors fill the sky.
If no one speaks, who decides?
Truth gets buried where it hides.
And there in the stillness, a voice soft but clear,
Not loud, not demanding—but sharp to the ear:
“I speak for the trees,” it echoed in plea,
“For they have no voices… no tongues… only me.”
But nobody listened—they laughed, turned away,
Too caught in the profit of taking the day.
The louder the warning, the deeper the fall,
Till nothing was left… not a whisper at all.
I speak for the trees—but nobody hears,
Choke on the silence, drown in your fears.
Bigger the profit, deeper the grave,
You sold tomorrow for what you could save.
Speak for the trees—echoes remain,
Roots in the dirt but blood in the rain.
Nothing will grow where mercy decays,
You can’t uncut what you gave away.
Would you? Could you? Did you care?
When you stripped the forest bare?
Took it all and left despair—
Now there’s nothing growing there.
Box by box and tree by tree,
You sold the air and charged a fee.
Now the sky won’t let you see
What you took so carelessly.
The ground grew brittle beneath every step,
A grave of the promises no one had kept.
The wind carried stories of all that was lost,
A whisper repeating the weight of the cost.
Speak—speak for the trees…
Breathe in… don’t breathe…
Take—take what you need…
Now nothing is free…
Once there were colors that danced in the breeze,
Now shadows hang heavy on skeleton trees.
The silence grew louder than any machine,
A haunting reminder of what once had been.
So listen now closely, don’t turn from the sound,
Of roots that remember what’s buried underground.
For even in endings, a warning still stays—
You reap what you ruin… you live what you raze.
I speak for the trees… though fading, though few…
And maybe… just maybe…
They’re speaking through you.
Disclaimer:👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
This project is a fan-made creative work inspired by the themes, storytelling style, and characters of Dr. Seuss. I do not own any rights to Dr. Seuss’s original books, characters, or intellectual property. All rights belong to their respective owners.
This work is created purely for artistic expression, using inspiration from those stories to explore deeper meanings through original poetry and artwork. No copyright infringement is intended.
