When I was young and hair bloomed full br upon my thoughtless little head br it seems I spent more time in trees br than ever spent within my bed br br Leaping carelessly from branch br and hanging upside down by knees br marvelling at all I'd see br the flowers and the honeybees br br And even as I grew to be a man br I loved to climb, to run and play br thinking in my youthful heart br that I would always be that way br br But now as gray begins to root br within my thinning head of hair br it seems that life is too filled up br to run and climb without a care br br I wish I had a tree to climb br like the trees of happy youth br where I could linger with the bees br in search of simpler bits of truth br br But all my trees are tender shoots br and long before they grow so tall br I think that age will touch my heart br to keep me from their earthy call br br And I will look to branch and bough br with eyes so full of wistful tears br remembering the feel of bark br from my happy childhood years br br 108br br John W Flournoybr br