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?