Thursday, March 4, 2010


Never would I trade the life adventure I’ve had
For the stability of a single place called home
Yet the anchor is appreciated more for all the times I have left it

Time has assembled a detailed shadow of what is merely some nostalgic place

Doorbell as a melody, not just buzz
Past iron railings and white roses
Corner pines in front, climbing in the back
Deadly alley where the beasts live
Patio grill with the juiciest meat
Workshop in back, treasure store front
Black attic closets of old memory
Cabinets full of prehistory
Giant brown chair with funnies and peanuts
Westerns or cartoons on all day
Books read by fathers along every shelf
Hall with the Western Electric

This is where I discovered oatmeal cream pies, apple juice and IBC
Late night viewings of Jack Benny, George Burns, and a Millie, all on the same set that lightning destroyed seconds before I went to change the channel

Time advances, the shadow is fading
Erosion has taken much away
An empty chair, a whistling snore
Uprooted perches, honeysuckle aroma
Painted turtle shells, watermelon seeds

Some day soon I will no longer visit
Except in a fading memory

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