The brown mound of earth
slightly elevated
to support the tree
the children played with
but our parents hated.

The big old gnarly thing
outer skin
always barking
rough against
my young flesh,
but I still climbed it.

The thick branch
that hung out
and let me lay back
to read a book
in privacy,
despite the threat
of gravity.

The way I relaxed
free from all below
an unobtrusive
lonely ******
who was outside
to escape
the black hole
of a home
where darkness reigned.

The pleasant wooden memory
like a ship at sea
which carried me
to my present
where all those
childhood dreams
are obscured
by time’s
unalterable course.