A Tree Called Bertha

I knew there was another 'other' world
But i couldn't quite work out
How to venture into it
Until early one morning
Just as the sun was shining
Having awoken from a dream
I found my small collection
Of glass marbles
I knew which two i needed
Picked them both up
And holding one between
Each index finger, and thumb
Held them close to my eyes
Then explored the patterns within
I imagined myself within
The whirls, and twirls
And found myself in Victorian London
This was to random, so i tried again
And arrived at my own birth
Watching in amazement
As i came kicking, and screaming into life
With the cord wrapped around my neck
Like a hangmans noose
As the midwife disentangled me
From the cord that had kept me alive
Within my womb with a view
That was now trying to strangle me
I glanced at the marbles again
This time
I arrived at my own funeral
I could see my name etched into stone
And date of birth
But not date of departure
As thankfully
A mourners cloak
Was billowing in the wind
Obscuring my view
I hastily looked into the marbles a third time
Entering this time
Into a strange surreal world
Full of fairy folk frollicking
Pixies, and pretty princesses posing
As strange, curious music
Was floating on the breeze
Accompanied by a symphony of singing trees
I was so enthralled by these visions
That i wasn't in the least bit upset
That during these events
I realised
That i had completely lost
My marbles!
So was destined to remain
In this strange, and curious world
As i got into a deeply interesting
And profoundly intriguing conversation
With a tree called Bertha

by Jemia