Marydale
Trees dripping in Spanish moss
shade the home of a child’s heart.
As if torn from fairy tale pages
it is tucked away
a haven resting at a distance
safe from the weight of asphalt and gas
beyond a gate no man can pass.
Playground for just the girls
mosquito bitten princesses in training.
This journey has requirements
what you need to survive
checked off a list
tucked safely in a trunk.
Here there are guardians
witch named beings of great knowledge
filled with rebellious, energetic youth
to teach you the rules of the land
and oh what magical creatures live here!
The warmth and flow of horseflesh
only before seen and read about in books
now suddenly touched by bare hands.
Warm breath, watchful wise eyes
tired, hungry souls
no longer a fantasy.
Dawn and dusk
the song is sung
the flag is raised, or put to rest
we remember our fallen
we sing for their glory
over rumbling bellies
unhappy with the delay
For our days adventure has
conquered all our energy.
Ghost stories around a fire.
A lady in white
rode at night
to find her prince
and paid the price.
There!
Do you see her there?
Riding her white steed
Past the Eagle trail
straight into your bunk!
Just guardians playing a trick on their charges.
Traditions are serious business.
Personalities are defined
in a place such as this.
My mother left me here
ignorant of prerequisites
cub up a tree.
Where homesickness became a definition
quickly forgotten in songs
and laughter.
Remembered for that quiet instant
before exhaustion of joy
quiets you off
in sweaty a nights rest.
Does this place remember?
Only artifacts remain.
Mark our spot on wooden posts.
We Were Here.
Does she miss us
as we leave, seemingly forget, and never return?
An ache of time
a history built of those before me,
before you.
An ageless experience
passed through adventure
captured in song
and fractured pictures
time becomes memory.
I linger there on occasion.
Such a sweet, temporary time
sad to come, sad to go
and somewhere in between we find
strength in lonely division.
Those times will never be again
not in this place, and never quite like that.
This is the place I ran to.
A better part of who I am
and I give it to you,
daughter
In hopes it becomes
a part of you.
