The Twisted Tree
By Dylyn B
Rough, however lovable, the wind swishes by,
Carefully spreading the berries onto the ground.
Once I grasp the tree, I calm down, as if the stress has flowed away.
I keep on grasping, finally reaching the top,
I grab the edge of where the two branches meet,
creating a safe and comfortable position,
As I sit on my throne I feel warm, safe, I can’t hear anything,
only the whooshing of the leaves and berries knocking to the ground,
ringing in my ear.