Let’s go back to the rabbit tree,

Where we used to run along the asphalt bike path,

Making sure to shake every Magnolia tree in sight,

And the white decaying petals teased our skin,

Let’s go back to the butterfly grove,

Which always seemed to be too quiet for reality,

Because even the frogs remained silent,

But that’s what made it all the more ethereal,

Let’s go back to Jessy’s house,

Where we would lie on our backs on trampolines,

And use cheap binoculars to peek into her brother’s bedroom,

Even long after he had gone away,

Let’s go back to West Lake,

Where we stole planks from a nearby construction site,

And built a tipi of leaves and wood,

With our childish writing carefully adorning it,

Let’s go back to rollerblading and jump ropes,

To dares that seemed impossible and pranks that went too far,

To diaries and chocolate milk, school buses and over-sized Walkmans,