Our Tree House (Prose) - Poem by Heather Burns
As children, my dearest friend and
I began planning to build a tree
house. We searched until we
finally found the perfect tree.
Along with our brothers we began
to gather wood, pieces of
fragments for the roof. When all
the material was gathered the
We worked day after day, endlessly
until we saw the tree house coming
together. Little by little it took
shape. At last it was time for the
curtains to be hung. Our lovely dish
towels were hung from tree limbs.
Now for the furniture. Old boards
were nailed together for our chairs.
Little pieces of cloth attached for
the covers. We were getting ready to
move in. In our childish eyes it was
So many happy hours were spent there.
Every afternoon when we arrived home
from school, we met at our tree house.
We talked, laughed, whispered secrets.
Enjoyed our tea parties, and the time
One summer afternoon sad news arrived.
My friend was moving to another city,
far away. Leaving me and the tree house
behind. Inside I cried. Suddenly I
was alone. Now it seemed so big and
lonely. Before so small and full of
As we walked away that hot summer
afternoon so long ago, holding hands
we knew life for us would never be
the same. We made a pledge to each
other set a date someday we would
Our tree house remained, but started
looking old and battered from the
storms of life.I no longer went
there, as I also moved on to another
city. Before leaving I returned to
our childhood fantasy, saddened and
whispered good by. Walked away with
tear filled eyes.Promising to return
The years have flown by, and today
I am returning to the place I so
loved as a child. Looking at the
house old and worn. yet so lovely
Climbing the broken ladder, I went
inside. Our curtains were tattered
but still remain. Side by side our
dolls were sleeping in their tiny
beds. On the table a tiny tea set.
Attached to my doll a note reading
I cannot attend our tea party today
as we planned. Someday we will meet
at the big tree house in the sky.
There we will drink our tea from
from golden goblets. I am here now
setting the table preparing the tea
for our party, waiting to welcome
Your childhood friend, with love
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Comments about Our Tree House (Prose) by Heather Burns
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