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The Broken Tree House
The Broken Tree House
It seems just yesterday that I was here. It has been such a long time coming. I have missed this place, this time, this life. I remember all of the memories I had stored up in this old wooden frame. My God, has it really been so long?
I remember getting my first kiss when I was only fourteen. It was a perfect night, and all the fireflies were out. I put my arm around her and we kissed that magical first kiss of true love. It seemed that sparks flashed, and the world became a little brighter.
No, she fades away into dust and sand strewn across my life. I sat up in that tree house alone that night. I watched the fireflies by myself. The darkness closed in.
I remember all of the games we used to play, my friends and I. Cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians. All of the laughter we all shared as we became best friends.
No, we never came to this place. This place was shunned for other, more attractive places. Why come here, when there are so many more beautiful places to relax and play? The tree house stands here alone and decrepit, bereft of love and attention.
I remember carving all of the days of the fun times I had in each little plank of wood that held the house together. Each month and day had a special time and feel to it.
No, these walls are blank and uncaring. The hard wood would never be touched by a loving human hand.
I remember the soft grass we all used to lay on and look up at the stars and wonder about life in the heavens. All around that old tree house it lay. Sometimes little butterflies would come alight on our noses as we were laughing at each other’s ideas.
No, the ground is barren, and there are deep marks in the mud around the tree. It seems to be a cursed place, where no life wants to grow and thrive.
There is only one reason I had for coming back here to this place, this time, and this life.
*Throws a match upon the dry dusty boards of the broken tree house.*
Burn, tree house, burn…
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perdoodles
