Memory
Memory
I remember that day like it was yesterday.
It was spring, a sunny Sunday, yet a bit chill.
We took a path into the wilderness,
Leaving the hometown behind.
On the way we met no one,
Peaceful silence surrounded us.
We walked towards the bright Sun,
Heading to distant trees growing on the top of a hill.
When we step into the young forest,
I noticed it was still sleeping.
There was no young vegetation,
like the winter didn't go away.
Tip of my fingers turned cold,
While we were walking deeper into the wild.
I had to watch out where I put my feet, step with caution.
My childish legs were a bit short for the tall grass,
Turned yellow below the snow.
Suddenly, a well known voice called
My name from behind the trees.
An adult hand armed with the knife
Was cutting a thin branch of a young, birch tree.
It handed me the other end, and asked me to drink from it.
I was afraid, unsure was it the right thing to do,
But I moved my lips towards it.
It was wet and colorless like water,
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