By flowing brook by journeys end
where days were merely hours
and all the world was ours on lend
from forest fern and flowers
By northern wind by gentle breeze
when laughter filled our days
when knees were scraped in ancient trees
and washed by ocean sprays
By Grace of God and weather fine
we'd while away our lives
on country walks through oak and pine
and carve our names with knives
By friendship bound and promise made
we swore we would return
to visit here where once we played
by forest flower and fern
By decades spent and seasons run
by weathered tree we stood
and as before such tales we spun
about our childhood
After reading Martin and Victoria's latest poems this came to me