Lost 443

Lost in the

Familiar

I was young and he was old

Of the future he foretold

From the maple grove the brush we cleared

Until the sun had almost disappeared

He said someday these trees would be mine

And the maple sap would flow like wine

More than 70 springs have come and gone

Not one drop of sap have I withdrawn

I sit here writing by the fires light

Just 200 feet from that very site

Lost in the

Familiar

3/9/18 #443