just a weathered garden shed,
In the shadow of a tree,
With faded boards and sagging door,
But a wonderment to me.
upon the wooden floor,
Were garden tools and things,
The smell of leaves when they are dry,
Such memories they do bring.
days when I was but a child,
We'd visit Uncle George,
And he would give me Blackjack Gum,
A friendship we would forge.
just outside his garden shed,
Was a fish pond with a bridge,
I'd love to relive all those days,
Oh, the things I wouldn't give!
time has passed, I'm older now,
But this one thing I know,
I'll cherish all those childhood days,
As my dark hair turns to snow.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul