It Brings Me Joy
To my best recollection, I was four:
when I built a fort from pine slabs Dad bought;
I recall I somehow forgot a door.
I found myself sitting there, feeling caught
in a trap I inadvertently sprung;
eating the sap oozing from every knot.
It's hard to believe I was once that young,
and yet, I still taste that piney, sweet taste,
time indelibly inked upon my tongue.
In my innocence, the whole world seemed chaste
and I felt free to simply be a boy:
a feeling that the years could not erase.
Whenever the pressures of life annoy,
I think of those days, and it brings me joy.
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