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Poem about the woods behind my childhood home. |
| A Walk To The Brook I walked through the woods I had grown up in As a child. The paths Worn into my memory As I stepped over rocks and ruts Hidden but not forgotten. It was here we built Our forts and tree houses, Now crumbling, The effects of gravity and time Gathering them closer to the soft, summer earth. The brook, Where we had chased the water Despite the slugs and mossy carpet That lay threatening underneath, Had changed it’s course. This meandering slice of carefree summers, Where there had once been shaded alcoves and poplar swings, Now a vast lake Formed by anxious beavers Far from retirement, Still building. My thoughts, Altered for this moment, Bought me back to the present Now knowing that Even as I tried to hold onto Memories of my childhood home, Nature had moved on. And so then, must I. |