As a little girl I would play in the woods,
I had my special tree,
I would Pretend it was my castle.
I would cook dinner
and feed it to my children.
And when It was raining
I had to run outside
and make sure everything was covered up.
I never had an imaginary friend,
but I had an imaginary house.
The tree was a huge spruce,
and my sink
was made out of a cut off trim limb.
The sap that flowed out
was my honey,
that was for the children treat.
Then when I came home from work,
I wanted to rest,
I would walk down to the rock in my yard.
Lay upon the heated grey stone.
Letting the sun warm my face.
The birds would be chirping,
and squirrel's would playing in the yard.
My cat would rub up against me.
He would pur so loudly.
And my childhood was filled with
lovely things,
but my imaginary tree, and my rock
are the images i get when I speak
of the good times.
When I was a little girl,
with no worries.
When life would be good,
when I cried no tears for the world around me.
Some days I miss when I was her.
When I was that 6 year old
in my own world that I had created.
But that little girl
still lives in me today.
She just grew her imaginary tree,
into her own reality castle.
And her children are on their way.
And when I now come home from work.
I lay upon my bed,
Look over and see my husband.
So some things changed,
and some remained the same.
But I still am that sweet innocent girl
that use to play in the trees.
