The Trees Are For Me

Autumn Love

by Joyce

They're my trees.

You can look, I guess.

But they are for me.

God does that, you know.

It's kind of goofy, romantic.

'Cuz He loves me.

For whatever reason, 

He loves me.

"How about orange trees today?" He says.

. . . And there you go.

"How about red trees?"

. . . Whammo!

He does yellow and even purple sometimes, too.

I say, "Schweet, but I betcha can't do blue."

He tells me there is quite enough blue already.

In the sky.  In the water.

He loves me.

The trees are for me.