Oh, for the days when I was running free
Barefoot all summer along the stream
Catching tadpoles and climbing trees
Back when I was young and green
*
Not a care in the world I ran with the breeze
Green poison ivy nipping at my heals
Only to scratch clear up to my knees
Rubbing calamine lotion to help it heal
*
When I was ten and he was nine
We played all summer long
In a woods full of sunken coal mines
A place where young boys belonged
*
But those days of wonder are now just dreams
Remembering when I was young and green
*
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Posting for Dora’s d’Verse prompt of young and green, referring to our childhood years.
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Roth Poetry 