A Lime Tree
The Swinging Secret Keeper (This subtitle highlights the swing and its connection to the tree's memories)
hand, milk, mama,
in that order in
the shape of a Hand—
a square in the bucket a
corner in the square
clang in a shiny song—
pink cup, coffee, urn,
in that order in
the shape of a House—
The old lime tree stood sentinel in the forgotten corner of the garden.
Its branches, gnarled with age, whispered stories of children long grown and summers past.
Each spring, a fragrant cloud of white blossoms blanketed the air, attracting buzzing bees and fluttering butterflies.
Under its shade, a weathered swing creaked gently, a silent invitation to a world of make-believe.
The lime tree, a silent observer, held the memories of laughter, tears, and whispered secrets, a timeless fixture in the ever-changing world.
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Comments (1)
Favorite line: " Under its shade, a weathered swing creaked gently, a silent invitation to a world of make-believe. "