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.