When I was a little girl,
I’d hide up in the tree outside.
I’d climb up the sappy branches
And hide up in the tree outside.
When I didn’t want to listen
Or do something I was told to do,
Brown, black, and green
In a faraway place,
Somewhere safe, somewhere unseen.
And as the tree grew bigger,
I grew too.
Further up I could climb
To hide up in the tree outside.
But you’ve cut down my tree,
Down to a tiny little stump.
With nowhere to climb,
Now where am I to hide?
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I thought this was a lovely poem.. It was very serene.. Good Job!
[...] the original post: The Tree Outside | My Morning Story tags: back-too, branches, faraway-place, grew-bigger, ground, near-the-size, six-feet, [...]
I thought this poem was going to go in a different direction myself. I thought that the tree going down was going to symbolize death.. I am glad that I didn’t have to read a sad poem
Love this! You know, it’s like every writer on this side knows something about me and writes about it, I swear. When I was little there was a tree in front of my house. I would climb almost every day until we moved. Then it was cut down. When we moved there was a tree in the front yard as well, but it was pine; not a good tree to climb.
Violent piece, but very nice.
Powerful piece. Good twist at the end.