The Monkey Tree

Under the monkey tree
where flowers bloom
the colour of sunset
you’ll find me reminiscing
about a simpler time

A time of long, summer days
tinted golden by childish laughter
of mint chocolate ice cream
with the flavour of innocence

The sun never faded in those days
it went on blazing with all the hope
mustered from a boy who had
everything he could’ve ever wanted:
friends, family, future

Under the monkey tree
there was no concept
of what would happen tomorrow
it was a place grown from freedom
a playground built upon
youth’s tireless optimism

Branches curled like welcoming hands
open and magnanimous in the way
an old friend welcomes you
after years of being apart
every bend in the wood,
a hammock in which to rest
your head after hours of
running in vainglorious heat

Under the monkey tree
I found another home

And should the world
lose its dappled luster
I’ll return to where
I buried a piece of myself
unearth it from beneath
those great, curling branches
I’ll unearth it
so I can remember the boy
who had everything he ever wanted
and show him the man
who hasn’t taken life for granted


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