I sit in the clearing
in the woods behind my house;
shaded from the afternoon heat
and surrounded by green leafy life.
The sun shines through the gap
in the canopy of trees.

I gaze around at the clearing
filled with memories--
A rag turned green
almost a part of the ground,
rocks and sticks arranged
in pretend campfires, and
plastic flower pot stools,
dented from being sat on.
Pine needles still cover the ground
but are now penetrated
by new plant growth.

I know you age,
but I hope you remain timeless,
untouched by the years passing by, 
and I can return, once more,
to the clearing of memories
and pretend to be young again.