Wednesday, October 18, 2017

The Tree House

    What would it take to make
    This okay?  Moving away would
    Cause readjusting, needing to
    Remember new locations of
    Light switches and numbers
    Of stair steps, forcing me to
    Stop my drifting dreams, settle

    In and remember – I built a
    Tree-house seventy years ago,
    High up, overlooking the street
    And kids walking underneath.
    When it rained we’d get a bit
    Wet, Richard and I, my best
    Friend at the time.  I heard

    He was arrested for beating
    His wife – more than once –
    He may be too feeble now
    To climb.  I climb my stairs,
    Open the curtains and look
    Out at the trees I planted
    When I first moved here

    And the rustic shed my son
    Is building a bit at a time,
    Much as I built the tree house –
    Only lower down – with windows,
    Though looking out I see little
    When looking down.  He’s
    Yet to install a front door.

    When it rains I have two
    Drains in the yard to take
    The flow out into the street.
    Eaves over-hang the window
    I see the mountains through.
    I’ve a coffee-maker up here
    And granola bars – back then
    It was peanut butter sandwiches,
    Richard had no wife to beat, and
    I had none upon which to lavish
    An affection I didn’t know I would
    Have, thinking back past her
    Now it’s not so very bad up
    Here, especially when it rains.

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