it only takes a spark to start a fire
and it only takes a fleeting thought for my imagination to begin running wild

as i was sitting on the porch with my coffee this morning
i started looking at the trees
i noticed that one tree appeared to be a very good climbing tree, many years ago
so far up the trunk the branches were spread out in a way
that formed an open-hand that probably coaxed many kids to begin climbing

i wonder if anyone climbed it?

i imagine someone did
i imagine many hours of fun
many hours of imaginations running free

did they climb to escape the bad guys?
did they climb to hunt thier dinner?
did they climb to build a crazy tree-house with a make-shift ladder and a trap door?
i guess they might have climbed just to simply climb.

but i would have climbed to build a tree-house
a tree-house with many rooms and many purposes for the different sections of the house
my dad would have probably helped me make a ladder
he would have given me slats of wood, nails, and a hammer
and i would have probably smashed my finger in the process
(a good battle wound to show my dedication)

why do imaginations deminish as we grow older?
why was my imagined story cut short by the fact that my coffee was running low
and the fact that i was just sitting out there for no reason
i didn't have a book, or a newspaper, or even a cat sitting on my lap to encourage me to sit longer
i got antsy
i thought of other things i should be doing
i thought of the fact that the coffee was going right through me and i didn't want to pee my pants

i thought of writing this all down so i wouldn't forget it.