Old Tree, Old Soul

I know an old tree in a back lot.

Heaven knows it's seen a lot. Struck by lightning last year but this spring it

bloomed. I used to climb it when I was a child.

Raised myself, I was young and wild. Rusty nails mark the spaces where

my ladder used to be. I guess we're growing up, aren't we,

old tree? I know you have a soul and it's inside of

me. And there's an old house next to that old tree.

The roof is gone and it's filled with leaves. Its branches hug the walls in