The dogwood grove

There is a magical place where I used to go
A place of which honeybees would know

Where dogwood trees did grow,

In this my inner child’s dreamland 

A place where time became lost in quicksand

Amid a bramble thicket with a hidden path

Be careful to avoid the black berry thorns’ wrath!

Bare feet covered in dust, badly in need of a bath

But children don’t mind brambles and dust

So down on hands and knees you must,

To find the entrance to the dogwood sanctuary

Life was hard but here was no need to be wary

It was dreamy soft and from pink to white it would vary

My little star flowers too thick to see sky

The hum of honeybees bumbling close by

Gnarled twisty branches spreading close above the ground

The softly chilled wind swirled petals down without sound

Sun, bright yellow and spring-fresh forces spears down

Grays and blacks mottle the bark under dainty fingers

A delicate scent from winter still lingers

But spring leaks from the sky

And though growing up is nigh

Here in my dogwood fort

Grown up thoughts spontaneously abort

Lost in innocence,

Life is so rich

In the beauty beneath the dog wood trees


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