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The most human of things, that was once said to me, sat in the garden, under the tree, licking my ice cream, feeling the grass, wanting to grow up, wanting to ask, wanting to drive, want to be old, enjoy your childhood, I keep getting told, wishing away all of the fun, why am I thinking, this in the sun, I should be playing, I should be wet, I should be running, and covered in sweat, I should be sticky, and I should feel free, instead I’m just sitting, under this tree, hearing the leaves, whistle and blow, should I just get up, should I just go, I’m just a child, it’s easy to see, this is my place, this is my tree, this is my kingdom, this is my palace, this is my Death Star, I feel like Alice, mad hatters laugh, spidey sense tingles, thundercats swords, wind chimes jingle, this was my childhood, if only a day, or maybe an hour, it’s hard to say, as I grew old, as my face changed, my old friend the tree, always remained, some times I go, sometimes I sit, just like the tree, I never quit, back to the story, back to start, the most human of things, live in your heart. 

Back to the tree, when my heads a mess, a place that is calm, without the stress, a place that feels warm, regardless of season, a place that feels safe, regardless of reason, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, this is my haven, this is my zen, this is my castle, this is my ship, I’m Indiana Jones, this is my whip, as I’m getting older, it’s easy to see, sitting under this tree, still sets me free, the sound of the leaves, kissing the breeze, feels like a hug, security squeeze, sat under the branches, the canopy of gold, my epic tales, and stories are told, I can be anything, I go where I want, no word such as won’t , no word such as can’t, this is my labyrinth, my temple of doom, this is my horcrux, this is my broom, my castle grayskull, my keeper of rings, My hunger games, the mocking jay sings, it makes me feel green, it gives me such power, my clothes getting tighter, oh wait that’s a shower, but nothing can change, how this makes me feel, my marvel universe, but somehow feels real, this is my place, that gives me my power, a second, a minute, or even an hour, a thing made from nature, so honest and true, my only go to place, when I’m feeling blue 

If tired was a leaf, at the top of the tree, the bottom would be more, above would be free, above would be sleepy, and full of reflection below would be anger and zero direction , below is frustration doubt and neglection , above are the times, I felt love and affection , I would sit in the wind, wobble and twist, think where I was going, think of my list, which way is up, which way is down, am I a leaf, or am I that clown, if I was a leaf, so gently I’d fall, from the top of the tree, so gently so tall, if I was that clown, laughed at by all, the tree would seem pointless, funny my fall, my tumble my crash, my limp and my tears, would feed you’re laughter, would fuel my fears, my painted face, will always be smiling, me as a leaf, my true feelings hiding, falling so hard, or floating so light, my feelings inside, my smile is so bright, but what is the truth, and what is a lie, which ones a laugh, and which ones a cry.
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