The Bent Branch

When I was young I spent some holidays With my grand-parents at their house in Kilburn My grand-father loved his garden And although having lost a leg in a railway accident He spent hours growing his fruit and vegetables Tilling the soil those grand summer’s days There were no other children around But that didn’t matter to me For I could entertain myself There was a Moreton Bay Fig Tree Growing and spreading in their backyard And about halfway up the tree there was a bent branch I climbed the tree and sat on the branch The height meant I could see Easily into the neighbours backyard It seemed like I was on top of the world And I would play there everyday so happily Inventing my own world and what I could see of it from there One day I would be a bomber pilot flying over Nazi Germany I would fly through the flak and defending fighters The next day I would would an astronaut circling the earth And I would marvel at the earth below For my imagination would take me anywhere That I wanted to go in my own world. © Paul Warren Poetry