Virginia

The forest is where our imagination laid,

peering out beneath the leaves,

waiting for us to join it.

For once we smelt the dampness

and felt the moss between our toes,

our entire world transformed

into a place of majesty.

 

The glare of the sun turned an oak tree

into a malevolent tower

in which we played damsels in distress

wearing tiaras of fern.

 

A shimmer in the water

turned a lazy stream

into rushing rapids

in which we were curious conquistadors

discovering new land.

 

For years we trapezed through those branches,

skipping and slipping in the mud.

 

Until the glare of the sun

turned into the glare on a window.

Still damsels in distress,

but no suitors came to save us

and there was no more land to be conquered.

 

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