Bending Tree

When I was just a little boy
I grew up on a farm.
My playground had no ends in sight
No fears to cause me harm.

I crawled through rocks and crevices
Jumped logs with leaps and bounds.
I rarely thought of getting hurt
Or shuttered at strange sounds.

I’d climb a tree and holding tight
I leaped into the air,
And if the top would slowly drop
I’d float down, safely, there.

But if I leaped and heard a crack
The top had given way,
I’d scramble back and hold on tight
To leap another day.

My dad, however, saw me too
And ended “Bending Tree”.
For he showed me that, there still was yet,
So much to do and see!