Climbing
Trees are my refuge,
I climb and I climb
It feels so free,
nothing can see me,
but I can see everything.
Sweet, fresh air
feeling as high as the clouds
Sap on your hands,
brown and sticky,
not fun to wash off.
My sisters and I compete,
Who can climb up the fastest?
Mounting maple trees in the yard,
and skittering up as fast as we can.
I always climb the fastest.
Mom worries that we will fall.
Because the trees are just so tall.
and I climb to the top.
I climb and I climb.
Trees are my refuge.
