As a child, the backyard was
my sanctuary and my
playground.
I climbed the soft
pine tree and crawled to
the top of the garage.
I stood and gazed at all the
houses and streets.
I felt rich.
My mom had a brown
jewelry box shaped like
a treasure chest.
It reminded me of
pirates and adventure.
I filled it with
football cards
gum
candy bars
family pictures, and a few
coins.
I found a small shovel
and buried it in the
backyard close to the
pine tree.
I pretended to forget
where it was.
A week or so later, I
suggested to my best friend,
Wally, that we should
search my yard for buried treasure.
Of course, we found it.
I acted surprised.
We celebrated.
All these years later,
I realize that my treasure,
then and now, is imagination.
I’m a wealthy man.
hello dearest Thomas I feel this one deeply I used to climb a tree and dream this is beautiful here is a song making me happy tonight 💕
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evBgLWQwAFA&list=RDevBgLWQwAFA&start_radio=1
Thank you. Much appreciated.
Beautifully penned, Thomas. Top notch write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thanks, my friend.
Imagination is the absolute treasure! The places we can go, the journeys words take us on…priceless!
I appreciate that, Willow.
What a lovely story! Without imagination, we’re truly lost…
❤k
Thank you.
I love childhood tales–things we did when we were innocent. You reminded me that I had a box, too, though mine contained arrowheads and pretty rocks that I’d found.
Excellent. Thank you.