In the beginning
From my perch in the tree I watch him,he thinks he is alone. He's skipping stones on the water and cheering himself on as the stone skips 3 times. He pulls out a cigarette and lays back in the grass to smoke it. I lay on the branch watching him. He looks back and up as if feeling my eyes on him and my heart jumps to my throat, a lazy smile moving over his lips.
He asks me to join him, and within moments I'm sitting beside him looking out over the lake. We don't talk, we just sit, not even looking at each other . My legs tucked up under my chin, my arms around them I'm lost in thought, realising that somehow his thoughts are mingling with mine.
Words never seemed necessary, and laying back in the grass our heads touching as we watched the clouds taking form, I wondered if it would always be like that.
The apple tree by the lake, I would sit there for hours lost in make believe lands. One of the branches curves and flattened and I'd stay there hidden from the world. Hidden from my Mother. In the orchard there were 15 trees, a mixture of Apple, Cherry and Orange. But it was the apple blossoms that called me back time and time again, the scent would permeate my senses and I would lay amongst them delving from one adventure to the next.
Then he started invading what I saw as my orchard, yet it was his not mine, I was a trespasser in the most beautiful place I had ever seen. He made me curious, not quite boy, not quite man he would rage sometimes and I would learn some colourful language from the tree. At other times he would throw stones trying to skip them across the water growing more and more frustrated as they would refuse to do his bidding. I loved to watch him and soon he was the hero of all the stories I thought up. From the knight sent to slay the dragon, to the warlock who would kill the demons, it was always he who filled my thoughts. I never thought he saw me high in the tree or even realised I was there.
I'd would go to the big house, mostly to visit with cook who would send me to the orchard for fruit, basket in hand. She'd always give me a piece of pie and warm milk and her stories made me laugh and smile. One time his mother caught us, I was afraid until she smiled. She was beautiful and soon I would sit and tell her stories while she sewed. She taught me to make little roses with a needle and thread, and her laugh made me happy. Mother, she would always chastise me, tell me I needed to stop living in the land of make-believe and learn to be a Lady. The Lady of the house, she taught my spirit to soar.
He asks me to join him, and within moments I'm sitting beside him looking out over the lake. We don't talk, we just sit, not even looking at each other . My legs tucked up under my chin, my arms around them I'm lost in thought, realising that somehow his thoughts are mingling with mine.
Words never seemed necessary, and laying back in the grass our heads touching as we watched the clouds taking form, I wondered if it would always be like that.
The apple tree by the lake, I would sit there for hours lost in make believe lands. One of the branches curves and flattened and I'd stay there hidden from the world. Hidden from my Mother. In the orchard there were 15 trees, a mixture of Apple, Cherry and Orange. But it was the apple blossoms that called me back time and time again, the scent would permeate my senses and I would lay amongst them delving from one adventure to the next.
Then he started invading what I saw as my orchard, yet it was his not mine, I was a trespasser in the most beautiful place I had ever seen. He made me curious, not quite boy, not quite man he would rage sometimes and I would learn some colourful language from the tree. At other times he would throw stones trying to skip them across the water growing more and more frustrated as they would refuse to do his bidding. I loved to watch him and soon he was the hero of all the stories I thought up. From the knight sent to slay the dragon, to the warlock who would kill the demons, it was always he who filled my thoughts. I never thought he saw me high in the tree or even realised I was there.
I'd would go to the big house, mostly to visit with cook who would send me to the orchard for fruit, basket in hand. She'd always give me a piece of pie and warm milk and her stories made me laugh and smile. One time his mother caught us, I was afraid until she smiled. She was beautiful and soon I would sit and tell her stories while she sewed. She taught me to make little roses with a needle and thread, and her laugh made me happy. Mother, she would always chastise me, tell me I needed to stop living in the land of make-believe and learn to be a Lady. The Lady of the house, she taught my spirit to soar.