My Place

A secret space, just for me, covered by the weeping willow tree,
It sways, dangling above my head, letting in a whistling breeze.
Soft as a brush to my touch with different shades of green.

Holes let in light shining on the fairies and me.
It hides us from the outside world letting me be me.
We dance around and I sit and read.

I lean against the grooves of the tree
Curved.
Rough.

Every time I have to leave
I tuck the fairies into the leaves.
They smile as I say goodnight
and hug me in the last sights of light.

Each memory overlaps within the leaves each one is special to me,
As we age I still come back to this tree, my secret place to be.