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.