Try (EDITED 12/30/11)
I sit quietly on my stone cold porch
my home
In front of me is the land that my family owns
my property
I can see the sort of green, but really straw colored grass
with large pine trees that tower above me as I pass by each day
They're so tall.
There's one tree in particular
no matter where I stand,
I can't see to the top
I know I'd never make it there even if I tried to climb up
It isn't merely the enormity and height of the pines that stops me
but the simple fear and anticipation
There've been some days where I've sat with my back against the broad trunk
and leaned my head limply back
with my chin to the blue sky that peaks through the pine leaves
so I could look up through the scattered branches
situated like the strings of a maypole
I would think of the different ways I could reach the top
which knots to rest my foot in
which branches were sturdy enough to hold me
which were smooth enough not to splinter my hands
so they wouldn't be red and raw like skin gets after a smack in the face in the cold
But I never attempt
Partially because of what people would think of a person trying to climb a tree three stories high
and partially because I could never put the thought into my head, no matter how hard I tried
that I could ever possibly achieve something so great
such a feat
it amazes me how I can dissuade any thought of risk to myself
like falling out of a tree to my death
or getting stuck at the top, being afraid to climb down to where I once was
And the only thing that holds me down is myself
conformity
the public opinion
I will always be able to look up through the branches that were never explored
and think of what could have been
but I can never gain back the time that I discouraged myself from trying
The hours I spent in my youth wishing for things to just change on a dime for me
you never earn anything from sitting in one spot and hoping for better
You only rot
like an apple core thrown in the woods
a jack-o-lantern left out until December
a carcass on the side of the road
The watch on your life's wrist gets smashed
the ticking slows to a stop
and your name is slowly forgotten
my home
In front of me is the land that my family owns
my property
I can see the sort of green, but really straw colored grass
with large pine trees that tower above me as I pass by each day
They're so tall.
There's one tree in particular
no matter where I stand,
I can't see to the top
I know I'd never make it there even if I tried to climb up
It isn't merely the enormity and height of the pines that stops me
but the simple fear and anticipation
There've been some days where I've sat with my back against the broad trunk
and leaned my head limply back
with my chin to the blue sky that peaks through the pine leaves
so I could look up through the scattered branches
situated like the strings of a maypole
I would think of the different ways I could reach the top
which knots to rest my foot in
which branches were sturdy enough to hold me
which were smooth enough not to splinter my hands
so they wouldn't be red and raw like skin gets after a smack in the face in the cold
But I never attempt
Partially because of what people would think of a person trying to climb a tree three stories high
and partially because I could never put the thought into my head, no matter how hard I tried
that I could ever possibly achieve something so great
such a feat
it amazes me how I can dissuade any thought of risk to myself
like falling out of a tree to my death
or getting stuck at the top, being afraid to climb down to where I once was
And the only thing that holds me down is myself
conformity
the public opinion
I will always be able to look up through the branches that were never explored
and think of what could have been
but I can never gain back the time that I discouraged myself from trying
The hours I spent in my youth wishing for things to just change on a dime for me
you never earn anything from sitting in one spot and hoping for better
You only rot
like an apple core thrown in the woods
a jack-o-lantern left out until December
a carcass on the side of the road
The watch on your life's wrist gets smashed
the ticking slows to a stop
and your name is slowly forgotten