Click on title link
Charlotte Rose and Father Goose in the Treehouse
My Tree House
Welcome to my tree house,
my free house,
my me house,
where I come to ponder,
to wonder,
to look up at the sky,
where I come to daydream,
to play dream,
to watch the clouds roll by,
where the air is fresher,
no pressure,
where treetops swish and sway,
where I come to look at
the books that
take me far away.
* * *
The Poet Tree House
Let’s build poems
made of rhyme
with words like ladders
we can climb,
with words that like
to take their time,
words that hammer,
words that nail,
words that saw,
words that sail,
words that whisper,
words that wail,
words that open
window door,
words that sing,
words that soar,
words that leave us
wanting more.
©Charles Ghigna
10 comments:
Lucky sweet Charlotte to have this time with you...and to have you as her grandfather. I adore the pure joy in these treehouse poems, and I wish you'd write a collection of treehouse poems. Happy PF!
Pure joy, Charles - for the reader as much as for the writer, I'm sure!
What a wonderful place to be and write! It makes me think of sitting in my tree to read and write as a child. Lovely! What a lucky little lady Charlotte is!
Love the poem, love the pics, love the article. I'm with Amy, a collection of tree house poems would be FANTASTIC! GOOSE POWER!!!!!
I do want more! Love all the rhymes here.
What fun! And what a special place for a very special visitor. Thanks for sharing - both poems are great.
Yes! Words can do all those things!
I want a treehouse, too!
What a great place to hang out and create!
Love these!!
Post a Comment