When I was young
I climbed the titanic sycamore tree
In that hidden nook
At the top awaited a fantasy
Like no one had ever seen
A dream
The attempt to ascend and reach the end
Was made countless times
Yet the jagged edges
On the vines and the bark
Scratched and marked my bare skin
With cuts that hardened into scars
No one had ever told me
It would be that hard

When I was young
I would sit on the log
Remnants of a giant
I would run my hand
Along the bumpy surface
With childhood memories racing through
My mind
The rattling of leaves
And the high pitched melodies of birds
Mixed with childish laughter
That whistled in the wind
Gently tickled my face
Scenes of innocence

When I was young
The smell of sweet pine trees
Radiated through the forest in fall
It’s scent succulent and mouthwatering
Almost addicting
When fresh blankets of pure white snow
Covered the barren ground
I slid down the icy hilltops
When the bolstering rays of the sun
Caressed my cheeks in the days of summer
The retreat to the canopies of the forest
Provided immaculate relief
And nights when twinkling stars shone
Amongst a backdrop of black
I laid on the floor and stared into the heavens

When I was young
I strolled through the woods
Leaves crunching under the sole of my shoes
The slimy, saturated mud from an afternoon shower
Coating my sneakers
Beauty of a different kind

When I was young
I never needed to go to a bustling city
Or vacation on a beach
Where the foamy tides lapped against the shore
My little piece of bliss was right on my street
An escape from everyday life

When I was young
Sycamore Forest was
My second home
Memories preserved in the
Ground