They'd spent all summer Building this place She driving nails He handing planks Though they were but ten years old They knew that this place would be The once place on earth Where they could find peace High up in the limbs Of the mighty sycamore tree They constructed floors and walls and roof A sanctum sanctorum for their souls And when it was finished They sat on the plywood floor Looking at their splintered hands And sore thumbs And they laughed He pulled out an apple He'd sneaked from his house And passed it to her She took a big bite, smiled... And passed it back to him
This is a blog where I can put down some of my thoughts into the world to see what happens.