Challenging Poetry

when the trees wake

I'm waiting the day
when the gnarled oak
in my front yard, wakes
up and walks. I'll ask him
if he remembers tiny feet
climbing as high as my weight
allowed—the secrets
I whispered into the knot
that I always thought an ear.
I know he won't recognize me
by sight—his eyes were always
shut as we played—but surely
he'll remember the nights I climbed
to share the stars with him
while fireflies danced and I grew
old and gnarled, and he
grew so close to waking
that I can feel his branches
shudder with effort against
the wind.

line count: 20
prompt: tree

For what it's worth, I've never lived anywhere long enough to have a tree friend like this.