The Cottage

It’s a place of magic,
A place of dreams.
It’s a place where miracles
Can happen, it seems.
Where the world is filled with wonder,
Where children are filled with awe.
Where making sure you’re having fun
Seems to be the only law.
It’s a place where adults can kick back and relax,
Where they can feel young again.
A place where a young boy’s excitement
Shines in the faces of men.
It’s not found on a cruise around the world,
Or a trip to far away lands.
It’s not discovered in theme parks,
Or Florida’s white sands.

 

It’s in a small green cabin with a sagging roof,
And a dock that tilts more every year.
There’s no nintendo or VCR,
Just you, the lake, mosquitoes, and deer.
Yet it’s more grand than any mansion
In any picture that I’ve seen.
It’s as beautiful as any place
I’ve visited in my dreams.
My Dad, my aunt and uncle
Spent whole summers here.
Fishing, hiking, sailing; anything they wanted,
Anything they dared.

 

Then they grew up, one by one,
And they had their own kids.
But each returned to this magical place,
And taught us to love it as they did.
They shared their stories and memories
As we all made our own.
In this beautiful place that’s always been
Our collective home.

 

There’s not a place in all the world
That could have better fish.
There’s not a place in all the world
That will be more deeply missed.

 

We know the trails like our own backyard,
And once, it seems, they were.
And Otter Lake, our very own lake,
Could not be replaced, ever.

 

I know I’ll always remember
The long and lazy days,
Of catching breakfast in the morning,
Of hiking the afternoon away.
Stopping to eat giant blueberries
In our personal Garden of Eden.
Then continuing on through the fields of ferns.
An imagination was all that I needed.

 

I remember catching my biggest fish
In the most unlikely place.
Canoeing with the otters and loons
With the warm breeze brushing my face.
Being able to tell the time
By the start of the whippoorwill’s song.
Playing in our lakeshore forts,
Watching waterbugs dance and carry on.
My tradition of freeing the dragonflies
From the spider’s webs, first thing.
They trusted me and would patiently wait
As I pulled web from their delicate wings.

 

For all of this I would like to thank
My Grandma and Grandpa Stone.
For providing for us, and sharing with us,
Such a place for us to grow.

 

By Nicole Bates 11-02-2000

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