We cut the trees, the branches old, Their whispering leaves no longer bold, Our neighbors watch with eyes that say, "In this bare space, we've lost our way." The sun now pours where shade once lay, Their secrets bare in daylight's play. Yet in the open, hearts can mend, A chance to heal, and be their friend. So let us plant what we have learned, In roots of kindness, trust returned. Though trees may fall, new bonds can grow, A whispered promise, softly sown.