the rope swing gone
the branch the swing hung from gone
is this the same creek
where I skinned my palm that year
I look at my reflection
Have you ever went back to a place that was a favorite of yours as a child, and found yourself sadden by its condition? I went back to a creek bank this last fall, where I had spent several days of my childhood, and I barely recognized it. There was graffiti on the bridge its self and the little dam of rocks was gone. The sand bars in the middle of the creek had moved, but that didn’t surprise me. When the water gets really high or fast in the springtime the rocks move and the shape of the bank changes. Some of the trees in that area had been cut down, that changed the feel of the place I think.