Before my brother grew up and forgot the colors of the sky,
He shared with me a secret.
That to become invisible, one only needs to climb,
For most adults have forgotten the shape of the world
Beyond their shoelaces.

Barren, winter-worn branches stretch gray
Against the timid rays of the springtime sun,
Coaxing forth tiny, vibrant leaves that
Will age to weave themselves into the walls of
The sanctuary I inherited from my brother.

Wedged between the highest limbs,
I disappeared.
Peering between the wrestling leaves
Of my favorite maple tree,
I marveled at all I could not see,
Reaching out to trace the sharp indigo mountains
From which mystic creatures rose
To claim the expanse of my imagination.
Here, I lost myself
In realms of endless fantasy.

Now, the seasons cycle past, each spring
Rebuilding the leaf-bricked castle
Of my childhood, but
The creatures I once knew have faded from existence,
For I, too, am forgetting the colors of the sky.