“Close your eyes and
think of your happy place.”

Mine ripples with the hush of oars,
where the boathouse leans
like it remembers me.

 I used to skip stones off the dock
as if they’d bounce forever.
I waterskied past laughter,
played croquet with no rules,
listened across the lake
to music, classic rock.

 And when I saw it again—
my heart tugged,
trying to pull me
back home.

 But time drifted faster
than I could paddle.
Now, the porch belongs
to other chairs,
the lake mirrors other faces.

And though memory lets me visit—
it’s no longer mine to go.