It seems so strange that they’re here.
These twisted trees at the edge of school.
A peaceful place amongst all the chaos and mayhem.
There is a poor attempt at a fence between
But its so worn that a child could crawl through.
If I were to squeeze through the hole,
The dry leaves would crackle and crunch beneath my feet
And the trees would whisper strange secrets in my ear.
If I looked back at the playground,
The teenage antics and fights over bewildered girlfriends would still be there –
but insignificant – compared to the timeless ways of the trees.
If I placed my hand on a branch,
I’d take courage from the thick, strong bark
And the moss coating it like a freshly dipped sponge.
I’d feel the crisp, cold air rushing through my lungs.
So here I am
At the edge of school
Next to the hole in the fence,
And then –