Tree House Pants

When I was cast out, like Satan, from my friend's tree house,
I announced that I would build my own.

I told my sister.
I told the kids down the street.
I even shouted it over the shopping center.

But, lacking the means (the wood and the nails),
I constructed the platform from salvaged crates
and the walls from my own outgrown pants.

My ex-friend conducted a chorus of laughter at my expense.