Cedar Wood Courts, me

A memory jogged itself free.

It had been Cedar Wood Court…

a family of flashes absconded with the longest day of the year.

You are after all, old Irish, dear.

The hide and seek…whiskey laced

A game of our Father falling from grace.

Cedars lined in a suburban roe

a piece of country amongst

urban down-low.

An isle of make believe

A day trip tuned in to…

indignant baritones housed in Mother’s shoe.

Loaded guns, stolen Winston’s and relapse debris…

Hangin’ from the memories of Cedar trees.

One for you

Two for me.

Walkin’ the dog, climbing the trees…

Cedar Wood court…

Wooded asphalt

Childish, isn’t it?

To want to believe.