It was a heavy heart that tore down the house
That lived in the old Florida oaks during the youth of my sons
Who grew up too fast, and no longer climb
Who as adults now dance to a much different rime

But I, an old salt, still long for the past
And the joy of their mirth at play all the day
And as I sit and gaze at the scene now still
Only squirrels and butterflies play there at will

And now only green vines run and yellow flowers play in their place
Adorning still with beauty that oh so special space
And the blooms of my life are full and at large today
With jobs, wives, and children, living in their own special way

So the joy of the tree-house lives on in new forms
And how dare I be in any way forlorn!
For what "was" had its time and what "is" will soon have "been"
As the world keeps going in its wondrous spin.

10/30/2008

Posted on 10/30/2008
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