I remember
A bright red tulip and more
Grew in the backyard... and a maple.
The maple tree is still there growing
Where we slept out some magical, childhood summer nights with friends.
The small wooden garden house that was ours
And clothesline even somehow how survived forty years or so.
A part of us never left that house.
About eighty kids played in the old neighborhood
Of woods and books.
The red tulip is a flame
Held to my memory!
Your peom brought memories of old the times at our old home place. My old oak tree had to be cut down, but the memories will always be there. Thanks for a great write. Your friend Lynn
It reminds me of the purest of white lilies surviving in a mini labyrinth in the garden of of a deceased neighbour who had been a very holy man.You have written a fine poem of special interest to yours truly.10.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful reminince.Memories are so wonderful. A dear and precious write