The Swimming Hole
Oil on Board
36 x 36 in
Hear the echoes through the forest.
As children they ran, and how they played.
Trying to slow time, they always return.
Water gurgles and giggles as they swim, Between cattails, between rocks, between seasons.
The triangle of Friendship, strong of bond and memory.
Sunset comes and with it, velvet fading on the horizon.
The three burn small branches and are careful to recall
Years which have passed.
The swimming hole is never a lonesome place.
They have all grown here, the three.
The swimming hole is full, the waters high, in Friendship’s sweet domain.