in the yard of my childhood
stand trees that are no longer there,
they made way for a deck and some stairs.
these trees are ghosts of the wood
that supported the planks
high up in the air,
where Mom would be scared
for me, as well she should
have been. I imagined tanks
and other dangerous things:
Sauron after my candy ring,
and my happiness was my thanks
for being the young king
of a forest of trees bent with caring.
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