The Tree

The room hides more than it does in the morning
As shadows run across the wall
Dolls in the corner, mouths agape
As a figure outside grows increasingly tall

The rustling of leaves can be heard
Outside your quiet home
A single tree stands in the distance
In the open, all alone

Branches scrape across the window
As the room becomes ever more dark
The tree, now in full sight
The moonlight reflecting off its bark

Finally the room plunges into darkness
The fear has no reason to hide
A single thought now comes to mind
No trees grow outside.