I want to climb a tree,
Or perhaps I want the tree
To climb all over me,
Brush my skin with a tender touch
Of leaves in a light breeze.

Perhaps I want to be a child,
To climb fearlessly and fall fast,
Twigs scraping and snapping,
Echoing against the open globe;

Then lie there for hours,
The tree tangled in my hair,
Catching stars between branches,
Glazed eyes shining back
Through the black shocking sky.

Perhaps I’ll stay inside.
I lost the guts of youth.
Hitting the hard, frozen ground,
Will hurt less than my lack of courage will do.