Tree of My Childhood My dad once showed a tree to me He said "look, its that same old tree That lived here before you or I The one which I climbed up so high And fell down it with painful sighs." Years passed and I held up to traditions Many a fall followed by remonstrations A friend, who'd listen with never a groan The tree was to me much a second home The grandest colloseum in my rome. I look at that tree long years since then And reminisce of when I was ten Look at a tree with no fruits to bear Of what use to have you living there Go on then, get lost, out of my lair. With tools from hell those men appeared And each to one, a clean stroke did sear Each painful jab at my childhood days For which I paid them, in my craze And as I look a tormented gaze My wife sees me and tells them "stop, Thats enough now, but mind those crops." And grief and understanding both equinox. Take hand, my friend, from me of this For in becoming the man you so wish The boy you were may long be dead The life that was, gone, a new one led Of melancholy and solitude, so it is said.