Hideaway

There was a little town
that I used to know.
We had pretty little houses
in a neat little row.

And while the summer sun hung high,
I'd peek out my front door,
equipped with flip flops and a smile
for what Outside had in store.

The pavement was hot,
the sky was bright blue.
The field across the street was swaying
as I searched for someplace new.

Sparrows sang and poppies danced
as I stumbled my way by,
over rolling hills and meadows green,
guided by a butterfly.

Then before me rose a forest,
and I waved at the man in the leaves.
Spirits were draped over every branch--
so a child's mind perceives.

I took a timid step forward,
quickly engulfed by the shade.
Nature whispered songs to me,
told me not to be afraid.

As I ventured ever onward,
through tangles of emerald breath,
not once did I glance behind me
to the other world I'd left.

Never had I felt so tiny,
surrounded by ancient souls,
as they stretched their leafy limbs so high
and laughed at tales of old.

Never had I felt so at home
as when I snuggled into the grass,
as when the sunlight filtered down
on a place where time never passed.

I once knew of a forest,
where I spent many a childhood day.
I once knew of an ancient land,
and I called it Hideaway