The Tree House

Shelley Ayres

In need of adventure I climb to my tree house.

Eyes closed the swaying tree house becomes a pirate’s ship.

I ride the rise and fall of waves at sea.

The creaking ship’s deck and the dancing branches are not branches at all.

They are drunken sailors singing “Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Rum.”

A blue jay squeals, “Ahoy Matey” as it lands on the ship’s rail.

“Arrgh!  Are there really blue parrots?” I wonder.

The blue parrot sounds his warning as he takes to the wind.

“Beware, the new cap’n of the sea,” and I laugh my most sinister laugh.

 September 8, 2013