A Forest Gone

One thought on “A Forest Gone”

1. “Now I’ll tell you,” he says, with his teeth sounding gray,
   “how the Lorax was lifted and taken away.
   It all started way back,
   such a long, long way back…”

   “Way back in the days when the grass was still green,
   and the pond was still wet and the clouds were still clean,
   and the songs of the Swami-swans rang out in space.
   One morning I came to this glorious place!

   “And I first saw the trees! The truffula trees!
   The bright-colored tufts of the truffula trees!
   Mile after mile in the fresh morning breeze!

   “And under the trees I saw brown barbaloots,
   frisking about in their barbaloot suits
   while they played in the shade and ate truffula fruits.
   >From the rippulous pond came the comfortable sound
   of the hummingfish humming while splashing around.

   But those trees, those trees, those truffula trees!
   All my life I’d been searching for trees such as these!
   The touch of their tufts was much softer than silk,
   and they had the sweet smell of fresh butterfly milk!

   I felt a great leaping of joy in my heart.
   I knew just what I’d do!  I unloaded my cart.
   In no time at all I had built a small shop.
   Then I chopped down a truffula tree with one chop,
   and with great skillful skill and with great speedy speed,
   I took the soft tuft – and I knitted a thneed!

   The instant I’d finished I heard a GAZUMP!
   I looked.  I saw something pop out of the stump
   of the tree I’d cut down.  It was sort of a man.
   Describe him?  That’s hard.  I don’t know if I can.

   He was shortish.  And oldish.  And brownish, and mossy.
   And he spoke with a voice that was sharpish and bossy:
   “Mister,” he said, with a sawdusty sneeze,
   “I am the Lorax.  I speak for the trees.

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