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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #2197064
Reminiscing about childhood fun and relating it to having grown so old.
The forts we built from fallen trees and twine
Hideyholes of solace into which we climbed
How we tried so hard to escape
Their cold, judgemental eyes
A quiet place, a safe place,
To tell each other lies

You a famous artist; me a star someday
Wine, women, song every night and day
Tons of money we’d send back home
In a self-righteous attempt to say
“See I told you Mom it would all turn out o.k.”

Those days are gone my friend
At times it seemed they’d never end
You worked for the phone company
I became a soldier
Dreams dried up, fled, bled out,
Died as we got older

Let’s go build a fort of fallen trees and twine
An early family grave of friends
Into which we’ll climb
We’ll comfort each other and try to escape
These cold, judgemental times
When growing old,
If truth be told,
Is suddenly a crime
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2197064