Beneath the Willow-tree

  

On evergreen-lined oceans

We wave cheery farewells

Teetering on the tabletop

As Neptune bucks the swells

Aboard a wooden vessel

Young sailors off to sea

Our ship, the picnic table

Beneath the willow-tree

‘Hang on’ we urge the younger

Or with a flying leap

We splash into the garden

Where the water is so deep

For we are champion swimmers

The front yard a vast sea

And we could sail around the world

Beneath the willow-tree

We climb the Alps, the hayloft

Dim and dusty made us sneeze

There, Heidi and her Grandpa lived

They fed us bread and cheese

But we needed to hurry

A war was on, you see

So we scurried back to safety

Beneath the willow-tree

...where the wind tosses its tresses

As seething waters rise

We stagger on the tabletop

And hope we don’t capsize

For the sea is full of monsters

And woe if he or she

Fell to there death in foaming depths

Beneath the willow-tree

So we cling to each other

SOS, we shriek and squeal

Praying for a miracle
We crank a phantom wheel

Then we hear Mother calling

Back to reality

Its chore-time; we drop anchor

Beneath the willow-tree

© Janet  Martin

It didn't look like much...just an old weathered table beneath the willow-tree, but it was a schooner and the tickets were free!

Yesterday was the first day of summer vacation for Victoria and already I've heard the words 'I'm bored'.uh-oh.

Often, in this age of gadgets and screens I find myself thinking,

‘Kids don’t play like they used to’. When we grew up our greatest toy was our imagination. I remember my mother laughing and shaking her head saying ‘what must the neighbors think!’ as we were transformed to whoever we saw in our heads. We didn’t travel much in real life but we all loved to read, these stories fueling our wildest ventures. There was nothing quite as adventurous as ‘playing pretend’…oh, the untold destinations in those words ‘let’s pretend we’re…’and beneath the willow tree the summer fell away as we carried out kitchen chairs if necessary and they became school desks and Big Sister was Teacher and we all were naughty students until she punished us with a sheet of math-facts and suddenly school was over as students stomped off in a huff. We traveled ocean-liners and trains, tamed wild ‘tree-limb horses’, became airplanes...and yes, sometimes we were so bored we thought we were going to die, but then we 'invented' a new game. Boredom's desperation fuels imagination!