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the tree house

March 24, 2014
By Anonymous

Tree house
My refuge my home
I hide, I seek, I watch, I listen
there are so many things
that just are
in this tree
this branch is my bed
it’s leaves my blanket
I sleep among clouds
of phantasms
This tree
is so old.
the memories ripe
of a hundred years
of the joy of small children
that lived in this tree
it grew to accommodate
their make pretend games
It became…
A pirate ship
An airplane
a house, a city, a hideout,
a forest, a hill, a cave
The tree, it encompasses
The joys of young life
Nevermore to be
Just a tree.

© Anonymous

The author's comments:
who doesn't like a good memory or two of being young
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