And we passed the place
where we weren’t supposed to go
A hidden corner
on a rare chilly morn
Crunching of foot upon acorn husks
and withered needles of pine
She kicked sawdust
on me unknowingly
And he could neither
be still nor quiet
A spiderweb clinging
to the last branch outstretched
The hawk gliding high above
keeping a close eye
This is where we found
the dying babes of the forest
The wind tumbling them
to their last breaths
But this is where we sang an old song
I did not know you knew
And held hands distended
in our wooden circle
in the land of the fallen trees.
Busted Flip Flops 
Good one Jen!!!
Thank you, Jimmy! I hope you’re still writing, too.It had been way too long for me.
Thank you Jimmy!
that was nice.glad u r back to writing.i miss your blogs
Thank you Ron! Yes I miss writing them. Keep me accountable ; )
Great one, Jenifer. I was right there with you, remembering those memories. It’s so good to see you back in the writer’s seat again. I look forward to more. AND we need to catch up, sister! xoxox
Thank you so much Debra! I appreciate your feedback and support. You’ll always be my number one mentor and cheerleader. And yes we definitely need to get together. 💞