Pleasantville

There was a place called Pleasantville, a township by the sea

It was named for its friendly citizens and delightful pleasant trees

These trees had hollow roots although they stood so proud and tall

They crumbled fast, had brittle leaves and bore no fruit at all

These trees could not grow naturally, not there nor someplace else

But, all around, you saw them; people put them there themselves

They built houses on their branches, opened businesses below

And what happened next, you would expect and you’d expect they’d know

There was a place called Pleasantville - far too bizarre, but true

People lived entire lives there yet were still just passing through

Even newborn babes without a name would claim where they were from

Pleasantville would welcome anyone! Not everyone ... just some

Even though they built no fences, locked no doors, they needed not

Those who did not fit in were forbidden, cast aside and blocked

As divides between the neighbors grew, the tensions too would grow

And what happened next, you would expect and you’d expect they’d know

There was a place called Pleasantville - whether history admits

A thousand times this town appeared though everyone forgets

The citizens who felt the need pushed seeds into the land

They moved in strict accordance with their leader: Plaster Man

His vision was so clear, where he would point, the people went

Though, he bent when folks would question the directions they were sent

Eventually, he pointed anywhere they told him so

And what happened next, you would expect and you’d expect they’d know