Memory Lane

Pixabay

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I travel down the garden path

The memory lane of my childhood’s making

Trodding o’er the stepping stones

Between Grandma’s hydrangeas

The path seems shorter now

Than when I was six or eight

I remember it having taken longer then

To reach the garden gate

The old swing seems much too small

How could I have ever fit it?

But my heart still fills with joy

As I recollect my youthful visits

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Padre

Paint Chip Poetry Free Write: stepping stone, grandma’s hydrangeas