She thought for a bit
Maybe trees never really could speak and hide in seek was only game not a story to be written
Could it be that all the while it was just in her head
Maybe by happenstance they got lost in the woods and nothing ever happened otherwise.
Was it a fever dream or Perhaps her imagination was far too complex
And without knowing any better she ran wild
Playing along
We'll never know of course
For she hides all the secrets inside empty bottles stained with gin.