The Memory tree - a children's story...I think....

The Memory Tree:

 

He was an unusual…boy?

She was not sure… girl?

Just as likely…

 

What made her or him different though

was the manner of remembering.

 

He or she had no memories inside.

 

Instead, the memories

to be recollected

grew amongst the leaves of the most beautiful orange tree.

 

She

or

He

 

would pluck an orange each morning

when the bright yellow sun

was rising in the beautiful blue sky

 

peel away the rind

lick the juices off fingers

with tongue and lips.

 

He

or

She

 

devoured one memory only

every day.

 

Some days the memory

was of a pale green house with smoke

coming out of the chimney.

 

Or a hill

covered in red and blue parrots who squawked

stories at each other

 

Sometimes it was a train ride

in a big sea-green train with wheels that shone

and a funnel for the steam

with tracks that ran

beside the seaside.

The rattling of the wheels on the tracks

matched the water

that rolled out and back.

 

It was like

living a life

afterwards

 

or backwards in time to before

the orange

was an orange

 

before it was a flower, white and smelling as sweet

as morning dew

 

or a bud that unfolded and drew

the bee inside.

 

Back to when

the tree was bare

and the sun was hidden

by clouds.

When rain fell like the words of a song

and her or his life

had just begun.

 

Each evening

as the sun grew heavy and decided to rest

taking off its bright yellow coat

to be replaced with silk pyjamas

of the deepest blue

 

She

or

He

 

would climb into the fork in the middle of the orange tree

nestle in

feel the two boughs of the tree

hug with love

and encourage him

or her

to dream of the memory that waited

to be discovered

in the orange

the very next day.

the end.