Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Sentimental Journy

When I was 21
the bus didn't stop in West Virginia,
such a small state
and the Maryland panhandle only minutes away.

I would settle in for another few hours
completely saturated with resting.
The slight early morning gray
was like dust.

Going home; but not home,
a visit with my parents.
They would greet me and
I would be grateful.

Now, from the high standpoint of age,
as if I look back from a high peak
with thin clouds drifting under me,
I realize that today

is the time for play.
I pull out my toys
like I did when I sat
sprawled on my parents' carpet.


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