The Treehouse

Huddled in a little corner, he cannot sleep
though high high above in his little wooden keep
Through a curtain of a thousand leaves,
the midnight moon peeks.
"Tsk! tsk! So so late. Why aren't you at home
asleep?"
A blast of icy wind and the frowning moon
disappears.
Darkness prevails and rekindles his fears.
He listens and he listens his frail body trembling.
The wind continues to scream, furiously raging.
An owl hoots!
Approaching boots?
A wolf howling!
Hounds barking?
The wrinkled oak tree holds the rickety cradle
closer.
Rocks it gently and soothingly whispers
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep...
you are safe little one
go to sleep....
Go to sleep"

Ahmad Desai

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Name	Comment	Date
Erna	Wonderfully mysterious, fairy-tale quality.	2007-03-04
Mandy	Well done Ahmad. I think this is a beautiful poem. It is delicate and sensitive	2007.03.11