My Tree

(I wrote this about 1984 - I just found a little booklet it had been published in. It sure speaks to the time when I had a bunch of little kids about.)

My Tree
By Debby Johnson


I looked out my window
At noon to see

Seven little children
In my favorite tree!

Sawing and nailing
With unbridled zeal,

Forging a spot
Where they can feel

Unique, special
In their own little space

Where secrets, games
And fantasy take place.

But what of my Oak
In its glorious obscurity,

To grow and live
In relative security?

My head is saying
"kids, can't you see

The harm you're doing
That lovely old tree?"

Then my heart pipes in
"Oh, it'll survive,

In fact I'll bet
It will even thrive!"

Then as I look
Out my window I'll see

The children growing
As well as the tree.