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Madeline

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

6 poems·Since July 2014
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The Treehouse

July 1, 2014

The Treehouse

 

Wooden beams support, surround.

Ladder, crow's nest, food abounds,

Kitchen, rooms, high seas are found.

 

Magic beings to work her charm,

Sails are flung into the sky,

The wind whips salt sea air,

Teasing with my mind and hair.

 

Cold water sprays high,

Soaking wet, I wave good bye,

Still a treehouse though I try.

 

Imagination comes thick and fast,

But now I'm off to bed at last. 

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