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The Treehouse

They'd spent all summer
Building this place
She driving nails
He handing planks

Though they were but ten years old
They knew that this place would be
The once place on earth
Where they could find peace

High up in the limbs
Of the mighty sycamore tree
They constructed floors and walls and roof
A sanctum sanctorum for their souls

And when it was finished
They sat on the plywood floor
Looking at their splintered hands
And sore thumbs

And they laughed

He pulled out an apple
He'd sneaked from his house
And passed it to her
She took a big bite, smiled...



And passed it back to him

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