Theory of Relative-a-Tree

Along came some children directly related to me

who would often play for hours in the family tree.

People say they look like mom or maybe dad

or one of their grandmas or perhaps a grandad

or take after cousins, aunts or uncles you can easy see

because they’re all hanging out in the family tree.

They seem mostly happy and seldom sad

the family tree has come to be their outdoor pad.

“Listen up, it’s supper time so c’mon in to wash up and eat “

and soon they serenade us with the pitter-patter of ten little feet.

Some years later along came more children related to me

itching to climb up and play in the family tree.

Some say they look like mom or maybe dad

or one of the grandmas or perhaps a grandad.

They seem mostly happy and seldom sad

having the time of their lives are the wee lassies and lads.

I hear the pitter-patter of the children’s little feet.

“Heh where’s grandpa? This is where we’re supposed to meet.”

“He’s up in the family tree and won’t come down,

looks like he’s smiling but he’s upside down.”

“Grandpa, grandpa get out quickly don’t you know

if you stay too long in the family tree it won’t let go

and you’ll be up there forever flapping in the breeze.

“Grandpa, grandpa come down to us please!”

“I’ll be down in a minute as I’m just looking for a place

for my weary posterior to elegantly grace”

I look everywhere and no space can I find.

Now totally confused – wait, perhaps it’s a sign!

I could bide my time ‘til someone drops out to make room

but this has never happened to a family heirloom.

Or ask everyone to squish in like cattle-class on a classless plane

but there’s only firstclass seats in this high-class tree of fame.

The message is clear I must wait for some time to see

that the tree has grown enough to accommodate me.

Got myself down from the tree – so much easier than going up

and before climbing again I’ll see my doc for a thorough check-up.

If I’m not back to the house soon my meal will be cold.

Now moving fast swishing through maple leaves gold

on a downhill slope I slip and go for a ride

to land on a hard head instead of a padded backside.

“Grandpa you surely hurt yourself good

but you landed on your head – knock on wood.

Your recollection seems lacking – do you remember us

as we always walked together to catch the school bus?”

“Don’t remember that but what I do know is this –

I must round up my schoolmates or the bus we’ll miss...”

© David Girard 20/10/19