Thomas creek you hold me.

Thomas creek keeps moving This water gives way to childhood play. I think this place remembers me. Old gravel road, potholes lined in Oregon ferns The same ones that tickled my knees when I was as young as three I think they remember me Lazy light filters down to green Earth, mud and skipping rocks Serve as old novelties and Time ticking clocks. The only place left That remembers me. vast enough to hold my past. The only green enough that last Fountain of youth that makes me sprite Jump into a past with such delight Thanks for holding on. Stagnate nostalgia Remembering skinned knees Deep breaths, cold water that calmed dread youth to living all grown up some things remain the same... Do you remember my name? Do you remember me?

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