Treehouse

In the great Old Grove forests Perry, Sayva, Diamond, and Jack Went out and built this tree house A fine little tree house It had a ladder, it had a few windows It had a little garden they built The garden full of fresh mulch Smelling like spiced wood and peppered dirt In it grew mushrooms Great beautiful mushrooms Even The Crow Club paid good money for these mushrooms The mushrooms were blue, round, as big as a human head Some others were pink like a birthday balloon Or blue like pine fire smoke They grew and sold many other plants They grew tobacco of all types They grew purple leafs They grew sea foam sunflower They grew great green ones And a few other funguses and mosses Southern sand moss Eastern tree rot And northern Gaviran puddle flower All was great to sell or taste On one day, as a rainstorm thundered on The group stayed in their treehouse They smoked from pipes or rolled paper They ate from jars of peaches and pears They bit into juicy green apples All while they reclined on pillows Their fingers weighed down on fuzzy blankets of fur And like that old stump pilgrim story about “The night before Yuletide” Visions of everything good, danced inside their skulls Imaginings of birds Big birds, not like the birds they sold to in their kingdom There were brown vultures that smelled like brown sugar And you could ride them You could speak with old extinct seals Their bones the color of freshly pulled teeth Fingers and knee caps became numb as the time passed As paintings never seen before were everywhere in the treehouse Paintings in the eyes, brush strokes on the skin An invisible painter, the smell of clay and paint chemicals Prayers to The Frog and The Loon heard in each ear Electric light outside Perfect smoke under the nose Dry mouth from breathing too much Still sweet from eating too much Relaxed until it will all go back Back to what it was But it can be done again All you need is a garden Some leafs And a treehouse