When I was a child I would sit next to your trunk

Hiding from view being your green screen.

Your roots must run deep down in the ground,

Water running through the earth,

Turning your leaves green before other trees.

Skeleton twigs surround you

Dark evergreen screens you

But only you swirl and wave in the breeze.

Dancing a ballet of soft leaves,

Your dress curves and waves in folds.

Once fully grown with green

Your leaves will make my hiding den again.