My favorite haunt at three,
Spending many an afternoon,
Was this little house on a tree;
Nightly, came to gaze at the moon.
My father’s workmanship
Of this large toy,
Had brought me friendship,
With our neighbor, a little boy.
Forty years on, we’re still close.
When we visit our families,
He’d give me a rose,
Thanking me for the memories.
Recalling the past once a while,
Puts a smile on my face.
We were young and wild,
Will remain friends all our days.
*Photo credit Alex Green from Pexels
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