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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2157333
There are places in childhood we can never really return to but the memories never fade.
Oaken sentinel held me safe
in rough and careless arms.
Dappled sun and leafy shade
sang the wind's lullaby.

At twilight's blush
fields became the sky
where winged stars
would dance and fly.

Dreamt away
the green song.
I wandered too far
and the magic is gone.

The trail is embraced
by the reaching grass.
Dry, dead.
Sunlight's touch long spent.

Never again
innocent.
The bluebells hang their heads
and the peeking violents weep.

Returned to find
the sacred is no longer.
The flowers do not grow.
The sentinels have fallen.

Over the years, time desecrated
the memories I would keep.
I only see the best of them
when I'm lost in sleep.

On a barren shore a quiet dream.
One day to be carried away,
carried home,
by the winding river road.

Original: 2006
Draft: 2018
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