~Back,
When Trees Were Tall~
Come,
take me back
To
where the time stands still,
Or
stretches tall,
Like
pines without end
We
used to marvel at -
With
heads thrown back,
Trying
not to fall -
They
reached the sky at will,
And
sent us flying - dizzy, laughing - down,
Onto
the rug of prickles golden-brown.
Live
for the Love of it,
The
Happy Amateur
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