Smoking Gun
The old perverbial smoking gun
as they say
just for fun
I shot it one day
shot it into a tree
the sap began to seep
down on my knee
I began to weep
I thought I killed it dead
being a child
something in my head
just went wild
I'm glad it was a tree
and not a person
or I would forever be
in a prison
the tree never died
its alive today
I still cried
and put my gun away
poem by Ernest Clary
Added by Poetry Lover
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