Sung in South Dakota

Harold's Song

Two little boys

with some nails and a hammer

built themselves a treehouse

amongst a lot of clamour.

Filled it up with memories,

lights and posters hung above,

had some wild adventures

and maybe learned to love.

And as those little boys grew up

so came their teenage trappings.

Pirate boat turned clubhouse

where girls could come a rapping.

Oh the lessons on that floor

that paved the way to preference

of lust and need and maybe love

between the boys I referenced.

As other friends would come and go

their bond would never break

desire, humor, sorrow, fear,

even anger could it take.

But years pass by and defenses fail

and minds can be deceived

and ‘maybe love’ turned very real,

must now somehow be grieved.

My tree house stood alone and empty

so I burned it to the ground

but it exists within my memory

where that sorrows always found.

I share it with many other houses

and other girls and boys

whose fallen hideouts and secret spaces

now hold silence where once was joy.

But now and again their eyes grow bright

remembering those lives with laughter

the times they had, the dreams they shared,

thinking “screw what followed after”.