"I want to run, and see the world
I don't like standing, still and burled.",
the seedling cried, leaves still curled.
"You'll do none of that!", the big tree hurled.
"You sprouted here, you'll stand here.
Running, dear, isn't your career.
You can swing from side to side
Whenever these winds provide.
But let it be well understood:
You are but a piece of wood."

Time went fast and nothing stayed,
Entire forests, cleared and spayed.
All wood chopped, curved and laid,
Many great wheels were quickly made.
"Rejoice brother, we're about to unleash
our very selves unto joy and peace!",
one of the wheels said to another
who didn't care or seem to bother.
"Good luck, safe travels, but I am good.
Going places isn't something I should."
"Unfortunately," it sighed as it stood
"I am but a piece of wood."