Nancy L. Wilson
Behind the shack in the woods there used to be,
a tired, gnarled old tree, where you shared your love with me.
Beside the blanket on the grass.
Wild flowers used to grow,
and I will always know, how much you love me.
Sometimes memories pull me back,
to the forest and the shack,
where our love began so long ago.
I still can see, that gnarled old tree,