Misc Originals – Chris Cole - Letter To The Woods (Guitar)

G
Dear little me, where the creek waters run,

D
Where the vines swing wild in the West Virginia sun.

C
The forest held secrets only kids could know,

G
Like the taste of blackberries and the paths we’d follow slow.

G
The blue hole shimmered like a sapphire dream,

D
Cool and alive with the rush of the stream.

C
You’d dive in fearless, with nothing to prove,

G
Just a heart full of wonder, with nothing to lose.

C
Can you smell the summer? The dew on the leaves,

G
The sweetness of dusk, and the song of the breeze.

D
It’s a memory stitched into the soul of the hills,

C
Where the wild stays alive, and the world stands still.

G
Grandma Edie’s hands moved in rhythm and rhyme,

D
Canning the summers to outlast time.

C
You’d sit by her side, just talking ‘bout life,

G
Her wisdom as warm as the soft firelight.

G
The fireflies danced as the daylight would fade,

D
You’d chase them like dreams you thought wouldn’t escape.

C
The woods were your chapel, the earth your hymn,

G
And every step through the ferns felt like magic within.

C
Can you smell the summer? The rain in the air,

G
The hum of the crickets, the weight of no care.

D
It’s a memory stitched into the soul of the hills,

C
Where the wild stays alive, and the world stands still.

Am
Oh, the smell of the forest still clings to my mind,

C
Like the musk of the pines and the honeysuckle vines.

G
I carry it with me, wherever I roam,

D
A piece of the mountain, a piece of home.

G
Dear little me, you were freer than the wind,

D
Swinging from the past that the hills couldn’t bend.

C
The blackberry thorns may have drawn a little blood,

G
But the sweetness was worth every bit of the flood.

G
Keep the smell of summer locked tight in your chest boy,

D
Let it guide you back when the world gives no rest.

C
For the hills will remember, though the years may slip,

G
The woods hold your laughter, like a timeless script.

C
Can you smell the summer? The earth rich and wide,

G
Like a promise of freedom that never subsides.

D
It’s a memory stitched into the soul of the hills,

C
Where the wild stays alive, and the world stands still.

G
So here’s to the woods, to the child I once knew,

D
To the fireflies caught in a jar of sky blue.

C
Dear little me, you’ll never truly grow,

G
For the summer’s alive in the Bull Run’s Flow.