You made me feel like I felt on those long summer afternoons, where I would be lying down on the muddy patch of the garden, carefully calculating what would be worth draining all my energy in the sun, some more goofing around with friends or some earth digging or some orange juice on the cold cement floors. I would always choose sleeping on the garden patch.
It was the perfect spot, the tall kapok tree would provide just enough shade and the occasional cotton-ball-hit on the head. I could also hide behind its trunk. No one would come there to talk to me, it was out of the way of the main building area, just in front of the fence to keep other kids away. You were my garden patch, in theory at least.
I visited it not long ago. Now the tree has become old with rubbish around, the fence is broken and a few shrubs have rebelled their way through the area around the tree. So, I'm left without my old patch, I think.
In all honesty, I haven't bothered reviving it or finding a new one I can call my own, because I don't need it. You still are my garden patch, in theory at least. Does anything else really matter?
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