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The Tree

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The Tree

Walk down the stone steps
They are wet and slippery
From yesterdays rain

And at the bottom
resting over the still lake
Is a crooked tree

Memories come back
Climbing on it in years past
Much simpler times

When I was seven
I climbed over the water
And watched the fish swim

Then when I was ten
I could sit there for hours Watching the sun set

Once when I was four
I skinned my knee on the bark
And fell in the lake

This year the water
Is almost touching the branch
The limb seems smaller

Now I wonder why
I come back here every year
To sit on my tree





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