A gnarly, old and tangled tree,
Became my summer home.
A shady cool green canopy,
I never felt alone.

His skin was knots and spirals,
A wise and lovely face.
He spoke in leafy whispers,
And bowed his limbs with grace.

His hands were witches fingers,
And caught bad buzzy bugs.
His soft old moss was carpet,
A lovely woodland rug.

His arms were long and spindly,
Bright birds perched happily.
I spent my hours just reading,
Curled on his knobbled knee.

Some memories are noisy,
A people filled bright room.
But some are simply timeless,
From a tree lined afternoon .

Edna – log
Edna- Winter tree
Heather- driftwood

driftwood from the beach

staring out through sightless eye

is it bird or fish?

Jan -tree growth rings
Sue- two pieces of driftwood
Fiona – box corner
Wooden posts in the snow- Annabel
Winter scene after Gerhard Munthe- Julia

Keep up the amazing drawing everyone!

X Love Liz x

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