A poem about my chidhood

In the spring we would fold little leaves

into boats we could float down gutters

We built houses of sticks and small stones

where pale lavender flowered nearby

In the summer we dug copper pots

and obsidian up from the ground.

There were secret ways to the woods

where we’d hunt in dry stream beds for squirrels

In the fall we climbed up tall trees

and held duels on the slides and the swings.

After sunset we played on brown grass

to catch lightning bugs in the dark.

In the winter we skated on ice

in the driveway and waited for snow.

We built castles of slush and red clay

and barefoot, we ran through cold rain.



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