Old Home

Hopping the train on a northbound route, hoping to get out of town and put some distance on the ground, there’s got to be a peace out in that forest, maybe a home for the feeble and away from these ill fits.

Just stepping away between the tracks left behind, a slower foot keeping those lovely little memories in mind, and all these hills used to be one of a kind, the bridge used to stand strong, I once called this mine.

Sitting staring blankly at the edge of the water, there used to be sounds back when the weather was hotter but now it’s just a place to stay and gaze at the banks, just closing my eyes to give a silent sort of thanks.

So I buried a life left in the past, and though film will fade the story’s built to last, and I’ll think back to the shade where I once sat and laughed as a gentle sort of history, the simple life I once had.

I swore the trees were like buildings that towered towards the sky, and in the silence we’d talk, deep in the lows we were high, we’d climbed the cliffs to catch a glimpse of down below, and I can swear now I’d see the footsteps of where we rose.

And as I step in the stream I seem to sink in the sand, the reflection of light always seemed to sink in the land and hearing every rush that the water could make, I hear a whisper of a voice that used to sing out my name.

I know this place is the same, the river rolls on, all the trees kept on growing, the paths are still long, but now the grove that always kept me in check isn’t quite the place it was when I left.

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3 responses to “Old Home

  1. Dude you’re really starting to refine this style in a great way. Same good flows and rhymes but it’s becoming more organized and legible, in form and content. I feel like your voice is starting to coherently come out and it’s dope! keep writing. and i’d love to hear this read next month.

  2. Ditto everything said above me and that It’s visually easier to read than the bigger chunks of text.

    You have some wonderful metaphors in here and your poem is relatable to anyone who has ever attached significance to a location, assuming that it would always be there, but upon returning, realized that significance had gone.

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