That old tree
once holding me
young and full
stupid with glee
from eyes filled with lust
for ideas and dreams alike
with a hope of sure to come
and a faith much akin to sight
branches that fought the wind
and leaves that bore the sun
that tree climbed for purpose
I climbed that tree for fun
stood in one place similar
hid in plain sight too
the tree disappeared of custom,
I disappeared for you
the bark that tree attributed
was like the skin I learned to love
bruised to create a beauty
that made life of what wisdom was
caught and found the clumsy
somehow ever the perfect place
that old tree tells a beautiful story
a tale that I often tell myself
we played hide and go seek
we’d hurt each other often
I’d pick apart his scabs
his leaves would let me get lost when…

that old tree
my friend of sorts
old and wise
of book and sport
from hands eager to work
for gifts and talents wild
with a peace few could know
and the fantasy of a child.

-see

©2015 Cornelious “See” Flowers
@seethepoet