Home
[A man sits on an old dusty table holding a framed photo, perhaps several decades old, of people he once knew.]
I wanted to stay all my years with you. I grew up all the same.
Home is just around the corner
On a dreamy barren hill, glimmering with golden
Memories; all that's left
From years sitting on the porch,
Watching life speed by on automobiles
each day thinking it'll never change,
is the regret of things left unsaid;
Going home is picking up the pieces
of everything left for dead.
Love for you now, would not bring dreams back from the grave.
[A man sits on an old dusty table holding a framed photo, perhaps several decades old, of people he once knew.]
I wanted to stay all my years with you. I grew up all the same.
Home is just around the corner
On a dreamy barren hill, glimmering with golden
Memories; all that's left
From years sitting on the porch,
Watching life speed by on automobiles
each day thinking it'll never change,
is the regret of things left unsaid;
Going home is picking up the pieces
of everything left for dead.
Love for you now, would not bring dreams back from the grave.
edit: I'm not quite sure what this is. It clearly has a prosaic element, but that's it at the beginning. It could do to add more imagery, more depth. I don't really like the transition from "Memories" and on, as if I'm forcing an arguably older perspective into youthful reminisce without the set-up being developed. Per usual with me, this a light, light draft after a total of ten minutes of writing and editing. I don't expect everyone to connect with this, so I'm more interested in what this poem makes you feel. OR, what it doesn't make you feel. If it executes poorly, please explain why you think so. Thank you~
