Where Once We Played
Across our childhood’s street we trod
on carpet lawn and holy sod.
We walked along where some had prayed.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
The dead’s abodes we visited.
But times we ran and sometimes hid.
Such escapades by fancy made!
Where once we played, he now is laid.
Our bikes we’d ride on many a track
that wound around and further back.
A decade near this place I stayed.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
He left. We followed, each our way.
until the fateful sorry day
we all returned and farewells bade.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
Another decade passed, then two.
Cruel time -its passing how I rue.
My place for his I would not trade.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
*Dedicated to my brother Dale, who died much too young
and was buried across the street from our old family house
in a place called the Greenwood Cemetery, a very large one
where kids rode bikes and played. Well, at least WE did!
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