When I go back home
It’s a memory I seek
And unfinished business
Old houses, old haunts
Lost on streets I once knew
Like the voice of my parents
Turn off East Main,
Onto Shady Lane
There it is, mellowed with age
And the lives exhaled there
Your parakeet buried out back
With the songs of our youth
I never said my good-byes out loud
Did you say yours?
Or did you rush to grow up
To pack a bag and leave
Like I did back then
Back before street lights were lit
We never want to say good-bye
To Shady Lane, to your house
To mine
Coming home means we never have to.
About the Creator
Shannon Yarbrough
Author. Poet. Reader. Animal Lover. Blogger. Gardener. Southerner. Aspiring playwright.
Blog: www.shannonyarbrough.com
Twitter: @slyarbrough76
Goodreads: https://tinyurl.com/m4vbt2ru
My Books at Amazon: https://amzn.to/36n25yy
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