THE TREE AT MY WINDOW

THE TREE AT MY WINDOW

A tree came knocking at my glass,
I asked it what it knew.
It waved its leaves and whispered,
“I’ve come to live with you.”

Its branches wore red buttons,
Its trunk had lost its shoes.
The sunshine turned bright yellow,
And painted everything new.

A little bird flew backwards,
A shadow climbed the wall.
I swear I heard the flowers
Begin to laugh and call.

The tree leaned through my window,
And said, “Don’t be afraid.
The strangest things are often
The best things ever made.”

Its roots began to wriggle,
Its leaves began to sing.
A tiny purple beetle
Was dancing on a string.

The clouds became like ribbons,
The sky forgot its blue.
And suddenly my garden
Was somewhere strange and new.

So I left the curtains open,
And let the madness in.
Because ordinary pictures
Are far too dull to begin.

And now that tree still visits,
Whenever days feel grey.
It knocks upon my window
And carries dull away.