Address Me as Serious as an Adult
From my stepladder,
I climbed up so high
to my wooden house,
a box held by four branches.
Despite the ants, the termites,
and the wind shaking my house,
I never want to come down.
I see my parent’s house
and wondered, “If my tree will stay,
I won’t be forced to live in a moving van.”
“How do I address those cousins inside?
Do they see me as a shadow
or someone to say hello and goodbye to?”
Out from the door,
I slipped and fell,
hurting my back,
now I won’t climb back up.