My Tree

    My tree is my sanctum, my place to hide from my anger. Its roots hold it firm, keeping it planted in the ground. Its trunk gives support, and a place to lay my back when I sit. Its branches provide a place for me to hide, and a spot for my swing to hang. Its leaves, a pleasant brown and red, color the sky, when it is grey and cold, and to hide my when I’m in its branches. My tree is a place where my imagination grows, where stories take place, and ideas are made. As I sit, under my tree, where the air is cold, and the sky is growing dark; I remember the times spent under, and in, its welcoming branches. My tree is my sanctum, my place of peace.

I wrote this for a school project.:bademoticon:  Enjoy!!:bademoticon: 
~spqr21