The old dead tree stood on a hill, <br />An ugliness of jagged rot, <br />In looming form so dark and still <br />Against the sun - a lonely blot. <br />My folks had told me not to play <br />Around that tree; and so of course <br />I headed for it right away, <br />Drawn by its mysterious force. <br />There was an urge I would not stop. <br />Responding to the luring spell, <br />I climbed up to the very top. <br />But, then I slipped and down I fell. <br /> <br />A limb reached out and grabbed me round, <br />Setting me safely on the ground.<br /><br />Ima Ryma<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mystery-tree/
