Dear Buckwood,

From the moment you let down your vines,

I knew that you were mine.

Dodging pirates and cannonballs, 

Green walnuts and dinner calls - 

It was you I looked up to.

Laying out your limbs like a ladder,

With rails to hold onto.

You stayed with me through and through - 

Snow to wind, rain, and shine never mattered.

Because that one special seat;

Belonged to me.

Still sliding down your vines would still consume me,

Surely there was lava beneath?

Yet every day I practice climbing high up in your tree.

And one lucky day I would finally see,

There was no lava or sharks,

No aliens or sharp pieces of bark.

It was just you and me.

As I grew old,

You were there too.

Until one day we had to leave,

But Treebeard would visit you, wouldn’t he?

Still, time went on

And new kids are there,

Climbing high and soaring through the air.

You must move on my dear old friend

And teach them how to dodge cannonballs 

And swing through the trees.

But I will never forget how much you meant to me.