poem for the week

away with me to the woods of old
where the stories grow taller each time they are told
where the wind blows soft and the roots of the trees
form the floor of the forest and one only sees
his life ahead in the road behind
what lies in front is the place where we'll find
camaraderie, friendship, and experiences of a lifetime

I'm gone to the forest, be back in six days.
Go ride your bikes, eat turkey, and laze.

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