For Children

I will tell you about a tree

That never grew.

It is finding blood

To make its dream come true.


It wails at night

Imploring a sacrifice.

Till it knits a trap

And a murder is planned.


A thing alive wants to take a stroll

Dreaming with half-open eyes as black as coal.

Till it snaps a twig with a giddy strut

And a mystical branch stabs it in the gut.


Blood is shed

That turns the soil red.

The tree raises its brow

It never grows, instead a fox comes and greedily devours.

Submitted by Urvi Sirkek, third year undergraduate in the English Department. You can contact her at 

[This poem was first published on Urvi’s blog-]


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