Between two trees, I saw the field of my years.
A pale green clearing with a mottled park bench,
Adjoined by a tanned wood fence along the road adjacent.
It seemed to me a small scene, one I could, in my stride,
Cover the distance of with eyes unblinking.
Yet I knew that between those trees sat a field of wonder
For a child of lesser years than I.
A world unseen, angles of views unknown, waiting for
The laughing joy of youth unworn by time.
Between two trees, the faded memory of dreaming curiosity,
And the pale complexion of aching age.