A bright red tulip
Along with a handful of other flowers
I remember
Grew in the backyard and a maple.
The maple is still there growing
Where we slept out some magical summer nights.
The small wooden garden house that was ours
And clothesline even somehow have survived forty years or so.
A part of us never left that house.
About eighty kids played in the old neighborhood
Of woods and books.
The red tulip is a flame
Held to my memory.