Tuesday 12 February 2013

childhood


Once summers stretched
long and hot. Beaches
became deserts. Woods
were wild,
dangerous places.

We sat barefoot
on branches.
Trees were to be climbed,
caves explored. Our dens
were everywhere.
Hidden.

Time hung
high and distant
above our heads.
Our imaginary spaces
faded,
leaving only echoes
in the trees and hollow caves.

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