My Tree

Up in a tree, I sit.

A tall tree.

Not like the ones around me.

All mangled and stunted.

Actually, just over there

sits my tree.

An unclimbable stump, shortened

by actions not forgiven easily.

I can’t help but think what

this tree did to get so big.

Maybe its owner was good to it.

Maybe it grows wild, like I am.

Giving a friend to the masses

and other life.

A support for everything else.

But mine has spent all its

good feelings.

Nothing left to give, but

an obstacle for all to walk over.

Maybe, one day, someone will come

to let me live here.

In this tree of trees.


Rick S.

Circa 1993-ish