The Treehouse

 

It seemed daunting, six years old looking up that makeshift ladder

to the treehouse centered 'tween three aged trees looming high above

I figured and refigured, wanting to go up & not, getting madder

I'd rather not and say I did, go fishing like I love.

I made it! I did. Enjoyn' the scenery from my lofty seat

The steps nailed to the tree were wiggly and creaking, one huge nail a piece

The bottom was in freshly baled hay and Trigger was across the way; how neat!

All the neighbor kids were here visiting us, playing 'n intending not to cease

The boys, rough and rowdy, flying a combative kite with a mind all its own

Laughed and yelled and directed the pilot, thinking they knew more

The girls, gaily playing contently with the wagon, smiling up at me...'lone

called my name and prompted me down, it was my turn to pull, "Don't be a bore!"

O'er the years that fort of a treehouse gave me misery and joy

the new brother, unruly and rogue, messed with me and with my heart

Tossed me around like an old rag doll, looked upon me as if I were a lousy toy

'Twas nothing I did wrong, once an adoring sister,....no, nothing on my part.

Girls came and went, tea parties in the breeze, slumber parties and shooting stars

thought I went up there on an elevator once, dodging the run-away bull

Seasons came and seasons passed, the tree house aged with scars

Remains to outlive a family since moved on or passed, all quiet and dull.

I returned to that treehouse more than once in memories bitter & sweet

Children laughing, crying, hurting.....such is a part of family life

But, the best part that warms me, was the love I had for all, a treat

With God, I could forgive, get on, and still look back fondly; forget the strife.

♥(¯`'•.¸(¯`'•.¸*♥♥*¸.•'´¯)¸. • ' ´¯)♥

Gina Ann Day  ©2008

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