Three oaks past the pink blossoming trees
Whose branches drop medium sized nuts
All throughout the year,
Lied the magical neighborhood fort,
Where we used to laugh and never stop
Because we knew everything would always remain,
“It’s eight stories high!’ I would say,
“And the tree, it’s so tall
It can almost reach the sky!”
“The boards so strong,
They will never break
The branches,
They could support the world!”

But, that was when we laughed like it would never stop
Because we thought that everything would remain,
But now three oaks past the pink blossoming trees
A few broken boards remain
Out of the hundreds that used to occupy the space
And old burn scar just begin to heal,
Reminding us of how our smiles were tragically turned upside down
The ground covered in trash,
And old memories just alike,
Lay littered all around
Because we stopped laughing
Once we realized not everything remains.