TREE

TREE
Barbi Moroz

When I was a kid, I climbed
spiraling branches of dark brown.
I’d get as close to the top as I could,
but when the branches became too thin,
I’d look down and marvel at the distance
between my body and the ground.
My hands, covered in flakes of bark,
and worn in a way they’re not now,
would guide me down the giant maze,
and I’d venture off to another place.
I never got lost back then.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.