My sanctuary.
So changed from the childhood playground, with its wondrous zipline and trusty basketball hoop
is now dotted with fuchsia spurts and willow trees.
The oak is cut down,
a fountain in its place.
An alabaster sculpture feels surreal
Its all too perfect.
The grass that would never grow, despite my fathers attempts, now stands green and impassive.
A flower box takes the place of my basketball hoop.
I sit down on the grass,
and look at the place where I stood
smiling happily with my brother,
decked out in pirate attire,
on the edge of a wooden pirate ship.
I'm crying now.
I don't know why.
I touch the ivy,feeling the waxy leaves.
Even that feels fake now.