The Children Trees
I’ve walked past the park’s restaurant time after time,
and by those tempting trees the children like to climb.
With their low sprawling branches no child could resist,
and sunbeams that cut the dark, its a place of little risk.
But there is more to this place than first meets the eyes,
and when you look closer, the scene is telling lies.
I’m still not quite sure if it’s the light playing tricks on me,
but if I mention it to anyone, they’d question my sanity.
The tree’s entwining leafless arms move in a mysterious way
their twigs of fingers beckon the children to come and play.
I swear I saw a branch move slowly around a child’s waist,
but when it saw me looking, it withdrew its arm in haste.
This chilling, mysterious place worries me and horrifies,
and gives me that nightmare feeling when somebody dies.
But why should I worry? Parents are near in the light of day,
what possible harm could trees do, to our children at play?
poem by Orlando Belo
Added by Poetry Lover
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