Branches of my youth

By Madeleine Connery, 16, Shelburne, VT

My tree is a razor-sharp memory
Sticky pine and strong, safe trunk
Perched on the edge of a forgotten home
Which all my love has sunk

From four years old I gathered round
Lighting up at pinecones found
Drawing breaths of sticky sweet air
Gathering dirt within my hair

At the age of six, I dared to climb
And found myself stuck in record time
Poised with fear, in need of help
Grampa appeared at the sound of my yelp

Ten years old, I drifted up high
Pretending as if I was one with the sky
Now Grammy was the one to shout in distress
But the tree twirled me back down to be scolded in success

But at age thirteen, I stayed up there all day
Tears trickling down in the beauty of May
And no one was there to be bothered with worry
As I spoke up in grief to my loved ones, words blurry

Later that day I bid a final farewell
To my hidden sanctuary where the echoes of them dwell
No more bold carefree days of sky and sun
I had to care for myself now that my grandparents were done

And still I wonder about the new possessors of the tree
Unknowingly holding power over forgotten adventures of me
For behind reaching branches and wise, wrinkled bark
Is the brilliant soul of my grandparents' spark[Photo opposite page: By Quinn Sunderland, 14, Charlotte, VT – A Tree Living on the Edge]