My Willow Tree
School's out now it's summertime fun
The gang is here playtimes begun
In your branches we would stay
playing games through the day
At your top the treehouse lies
Imaginations materialize
Your bows bending to the ground
It's our make believe playground
In the heat of the day
coolness brought to our dismay
As evening sets appears fireflies
looks like your dressed in christmas lights
You were once my willow tree
Now looking back at memories
JoAnn, what a beautiful poems reflecting on ones childhood. Those lovely memories of our innocent days before the big old world encroached and to corrupt us. Top marks from me. Thanks for sharing it my friend. Dodgy Dave
It`s been years since i climed a tree, hey JoJo come clime with me...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is this the willow tree you were telling me about in your comment about my fireflies poem? It sounds like the same one you described. We also had a treehouse in a big poplar tree in our yard. Those surely were the good ole days, huh? Great memories.