Graveyard Without Graves

As I sit on this small mound like hill thing, I remember my time before Colorado. Us three would play in a graveyard set up on a hill. A graveyard with no graves, no tombstones. but still beneath us lie dead bodies of cowboys from the past. We always talked about digging them up but yet we never did. We played in the forest by the graveyard, where we would become forest creatures and live in the trees. We would collect berries and fruits to bake into pies. And sell them at the market held at the benches in the graveyard. Sometimes other creatures would come to visit. Sometimes a man with a gun would chase us down through the forest. In the end though, he became our friend. Then night would fall and we would climb on the memorial of stone and hold meetings for the forest. Fireflies would come out and we would catch them only to let them go. Then we would hear our parents calling, and you would drive home while my brother and I would head inside.