Memories of days spent at Hillsborough River State Park near Tampa, FL.
There’s a lazy old river in the back of my mind
Our family would visit from time to time,
Where the waters ran gently through countless miles
Of live oaks and woodlands, placid and wild.
Wherein one such place I still can trace
The vestiges of those days
Filled with watermelon fights and blue herons in flight
And mom’s apple pie, homemade.
With wheelbarrow races and so many faces
Of friends long gone like the rain…
Cool, clean and like a dream
Disappearing, just like they came.
Playing Tarzan and fly from a rope we would tie
On a limb hanging over the bank
With a loud whooping yell and smile as we fell
Into old man river and sank.
Down to the bottom and touched the sand
And popped back up once more
Laughing like crazy ‘till the sun set lazy
Ending our day by the shore.
With our dad and a book and that one special look
That it’s time to start saying our prayers
Of goodness and grace and thanks for that place
Where my heart still lingers back there.