Forgotten Things
We went through woods to find
Our pleasantries of mind,
We lovers of forgotten things.
There, nestled in the wild
Sat picket fence and fig,
And on a dancing twig
A boy spied a dragonfly.
Others hovered nearby,
But this one did not fly
When gently he stroked its wings.
Oh the joy that nature brings,
To touch a dragonfly
In a place long untouched by child.
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