I miss being home where the salty ocean
drifts into your nostrils and the sweet lobster and memories
like a new day wash in the
corners of my mind. The tree
in my backyard that I often climbed, away from the
verbal minefield of my parent's
expectations and the 1/2 truths of so called " Friends "
and
white picket fences with their manicured lawns,
but
I know I'm older now...the tree was torn out...both of
my parents have died and friends I thought I knew
have gone to places unknown. Neighbours have died
lawns let go and I am the Stranger, being stared at,
as I sit on my Father's steps and watch the world
leave
me behind,
lost in my Boyhood days......
(Love the layout too...)
Diana...
Ron