Remembered
I remember
the tiny miracles
skimming the surface
of the creek
The smell of cool, dank earth,
seeping through
the rotting leaves
There on the bank,
are collected hours
of childhood
Connected only to their own world-
a place unaffected
by the worries of time and maturity
An unmarked sanctuary
kept living
for the one that's buried there
Copyright © Charles Martin | Year Posted 2018
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