rosepoems

Like time-worn puzzle pieces
the sticks fit together, wood that was meant
to be. They rested in a modest square,
shaped around a soft carpet
of leaves and dirt. We formed
a pointed roof, that didn’t keep away the rain
but let sunshine always warm
those inside. The structure remained
sturdy, resilient, calm. It seemed
to come alive at our presence
but rest in our absence. Its magic
was addicting and we returned
every summer until the rain and storms
slowly washed it away, along with those footprints,
that marched through the mud each summer
to find our treasured fort.