Mercilessly seasoned in the hardships of the nature,
Wrote many stories before being mended in furniture.
The story of changing weathers they wrote on their stems
I see them everywhere in the manmade selfish realms
They watch how the doors we open and how we close
Sitting on a chair the behavior of hips they can prose
What we do on our beds and with whom we sleep at night
They know the wrong we did and they know what was right
They know how much money put in the drawers came as bribe
The currency is local or foreign everything wood can inscribe
Today man is reading the past in the writes on the stems
Tomorrow he will read our private lives in the dirty realms
Machines will be invented to convert their writes into speeches
Wood’s recording all whether pure showers or the acidic leaches.