once his tiny hands collected treasure there.
his little feet trampled through the creek and the forrest.
it's where he grew up,
part of the canvas he was painted on.
it's the home he took this new jersey girl to one cold november night.
it's where we passed one stop light and saw some livestock chained to a tree in someones yard, i'd never seen that before.
it's where i thought to myself, "it's official i'm getting in thick with a southern boy."
it's where we took a moon-lit walk on the train tracks and ended up a stones throw from a bull the size of a shed.
it was the place of bartmitzvah's and bobbing for spam.
it was the place of many gatherings and bon-fires.
it is a place of peace where the wide open sky shines with stars unhindered by the city lights.
it's a place of refuge and comfort and fellowship.
it's a place where on a sunny day i married him in the clearing in the woods.
it's a place you don't fully appreciate until it's slipping away.
