THOSE THINGS REMEMBERED
Deep inside, those boyhood memories still aboundvivid snapshots of wild places we used to roam
Exploring long hours in secret woods, never found
hiding after dark, never wanting to venture home
It sometimes seems to be only just yesterday
picking blackberry and butternut in deep, dark woods
Chasing squirrels through the leaves, all plump and gray
never knowing such days would fade away
Those favored places, childhood memories lost in time
but were these places really ever just mine?
To see again such places, places we called our own
or is it true, that one can never really go home?
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