The Forest Park

I'll hold you in the forest park.
The fresh green spring of young again.
The twisted bark like an elephant's skin,
wrapped around and deep within.

I can't go back, to far away,
and fix the faults of yesterday,
but if we never meet once more
I'll hold you where we've been before.

I'll walk along the road to school,
to casually say hello.
I'll roll the coffee in my hands
and feel its earthy glow.
I'll talk among the leafy track
and hear the rain say pitter pat,
bend willow on your parents lawn
to make a garden cat.

I'll see the tree with aged bark,
in leafy spring and winter's dark.
I'll feel it here forever when
I hold you in the forest park.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.