Thoughts harken back to childhood days,
as a young girl frolics and plays.
Mid the shadows of the old cypress tree,
laughter and innocence call to me.
Upon the high branches dreams to be had,
place of refuge when times were sad.
Still calls to me when my mind needs a rest,
quiet place, serenity's quest.
Boughs once held those joys of tender years,
never forgotten, dream appears.
Twirl round and round with yesterdays hope,
up and away vine covered rope.
So high and mighty was this tree so grand,
southern comfort in forest stand.
Tall tales and riddles and nursery rhymes,
remembrance of more innocent times.
