Growing, So Sweet and Treacherous

The tree and that crack
in the sidewalk may be gone,
where I flew like a small creature
made from wind and hair and scabbed knee
down and over the small bump that the root
curved just so for my delight.

I would stop and pull the corked bark
out a little and it seemed it opened
just for me to hide treasures in;
pieces of polished glass,
a lovely smooth pebble,
a four leaf clover.
Somehow I thought as I drove by
they might still be there
waiting my charge
into a new adventure.

The house where I grew up
still stands with dormer window eyes
and a door that is red.
The green lawn, so good for running,
was where I broke my arm tripping on the sprinkler.
Now there is a hill there
with a jungle of delicious flowering plants
and although it is the same
it is many years different.

I wanted to knock and proclaim myself the person
who put love notes to someone not yet arrived
under the eves outside my bedroom window,
I was the one who pretended to eat sandwiches outside,
but instead, hid them in that hedge out front
and made great friends with a cat that liked tuna fish.

Above the garage now
is a beautiful room with lovely windows,
when before it held my butterfly collection.
It was there where my brother sent my first admirer
up the ladder, then pulled it away and made him stay
‘til he was done with following me,
for I was twelve and knew nothing of my sexual power
or the burgeoning heat that had attracted him.

You are soaking my heart with memory...
house…dear house, where growing
was so sweet and treacherous.