I had returned back
To the family farm
And I lay on the grass
Looking up at the falling stars
Reminiscing my boyhood years;
I spent many summer nights
Here on this same patch of grass
Next to the lake dreaming the
Magical summer nights of my youth.

I could still see the roof
Of the old pickup truck
Shine through the murky waters,
And the old barn overgrown
By long weeds, and the timbers
Worn and warped, but it
Still kept its charm.

The place once echoed
With local rustic voices;
Farmers,fishermen,loggers
And families reclining
On the fields amongst
The flowers and picnic baskets.

I never forgot that submerged
Pickup truck in the lake,
It become an aquatic world
Home to fish, tadpoles,
Dragonflies and bullfrogs;
An enchanted bullfrog motel.

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With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios

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