R

Remembered Woods

There was a Wood
when I was a child
where we went
to escape our lives.

For hours, we'd hike
in through the overhanging
trees, lush with leaves, and twisting
river banks, moss soft
underfoot.

We imagined we were the
very first people ever
to find the Wood, as if
explorers in the wild
without map or compass,
and only memory as a guide.

That Wood is in my mind now,
as I write, remembering
leaning against the roots
of the trees, soft with growth,
shadowed from the summer sun,
the trickling sound of water
a soundtrack to youth.

We'd talk softly, in hushed voices,
of the future we'd be making,
of seeing the world, or discovering
something new, something our own,
something important

only to return home, silent
when asked,
where were you all day
and where had you gone?

By Kevin Hodgson, for GloPoWriMo 2017

Remembered Woods

by dogtrax

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