Nancy L. Meek
FROM THE MEMORY TRAIN, I CAN SEE TREES
I remember cool woods on a muggy summer day,
our tomb-like fortress where we would often play,
its clammy clay steps that beckoned our bare feet,
then carried us downward to our candled-retreat.
I remember the swamps, spooky, stagnant and green,
the resident, rooting Razorback grunting, and mean,
the “duh dum” of its hooves thundering upon wood,
as our young agile feet ranneth as fast as they could.
I remember the dirty white sneaker I lost by the track,
the train track, that is, as my mind takes me back
clickety clacking happily to that period care-free,
when days were forever and the nights terror-free.
©Copyright July 17, 2008 by Nancy L. Meek