When I was young in the backyard,
the towering, barren hill beckoned me.
I couldn't resist its dangerous lure.
I'd race to the top just to tumble back down
on summer afternoons or chilly snow days.

When I was young in the backyard,
I insisted on wearing my pink roller-skates.
I chased my dog, scooting inch by inch,
and played on the swings
until Mom called me in.

On snow days she bundled me up
With four layered jackets and
two long sweatshirts. I waddled
out the back door and down the stone steps,
falling face first into the white icy mass.

When I was young in the backyard
I hauled my pink plastic sled
to the peak of the hill,
setting my stance,
prepared for the thrill.

With me in the front,
my dad in the back,
we raced down the hill
crashing head-on into the fence
but laughing along the way.

When I was young in the backyard
I spent summers on the monkey bars 'til
the sun went down. And as darkness fell
I'd lie on the grass gazing
at the thousands of stars up above.

When I was young in the backyard
nothing else seemed to matter.
The beach was nonexistent,
and the city far from thoughts.

The backyard was my haven
where I grew up and played.
It'll always be my home
and a memory that lasts.