© Rabbi Menachem Creditor
The guy with the mustache just wouldn’t let up,
though I used all my tact to break free.
It seemed all he could say was “I speak for the trees,”
and he seemed mighty interested in me.
So I followed him right past a rickety fence,
past tree stumps all ringed with old stones,
and though we were steadily walking together,
I couldn’t help feeling alone.
“A forest once grew here. Music once bloomed.
Birds, bears, and fish did abound,”
he told me with sadness, “Here once was great gladness.
But now only gray can be found.”
I couldn’t help thinking I’d heard this before,
a story or maybe a dream,
with gruvvulous gloves, holes in clouds up above,
and gloppity-glop in the streams…
His voice just droned on, and my eyelids grew heavy,
so I sat and I lay down my head.
The truth is I just couldn’t handle the truth of this.
I really just wanted a bed.
When I opened my eyes, and looked all around,
the guy with the ‘stache wasn’t there,
But a voice said from everywhere
“unless you are ready to act – not just listen – beware.”