As a child…

[Tiger the Lion]

As a child…

I was afraid of ghosts
in fig trees, yew trees,
willows like fountains of tears
in the gathering darkness. Fear
of bones picked clean. Water
churned green. Sorrow that hung
from a rope in the branches
against the sky,
the white wide eyes of children
asking why -

but now 
knowing it was all a lie 
I’m afraid there are no ghosts 
in the gathering darkness.

Nicely done, Busker. Especially enjoyed the subtle rhymes of ghosts/willows, clean/green and sky/why/lie. If anything, I would have preferred a repetition of "afraid" in L4, rather than "fear." Sounds stronger when I read it aloud.